


The Little Burke Boy

by LucyCrewe11 (Raphaela_Crowley)



Series: Susan is a Mermaid, Peter Is adopted (Because That's a Thing, Seventeen-year-old Me Decided) [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, H2O: Just Add Water
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood, F/M, Family, Gen, Mermaids, Orphanage, Peter Pevensie is Adopted, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphaela_Crowley/pseuds/LucyCrewe11
Summary: Before he was taken in by Helen Pevensie, a little boy named Peter Burke was a lonely, unwanted, toddler. All alone in the world, he wondered if he'd ever be happy and loved by a caring family.
Relationships: Peter Pevensie/Susan Pevensie
Series: Susan is a Mermaid, Peter Is adopted (Because That's a Thing, Seventeen-year-old Me Decided) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977607
Kudos: 8





	1. The little Burke Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008, as a requested prequel to my then-currently ongoing fanfics Susan's Secret and The Susan Code

The little baby opened his blue eyes and looked at the ceiling. He had very little sense of what was going on. After all, he was just born that very day. Thus to the baby, the hospital wasn't anything besides a clear crib with a white wall above him. The blanket he was wrapped it was blue of course for only the girls were given pink ones.

What the baby had no way of knowing, was that the hospital he was in was one of the finest in the world. That he had been born into an absurd amount of money.

If the baby had known this, I don't think he would've cared one bit about that. What he wanted was to see his mother. He'd lived in her womb for nine months and had wondered what she would be like. It would be so very lovely, he thought when he was big enough to call her 'Mum'. Now that he was out, he'd finally see her. The nurses had taken him away before he'd gotten a chance to catch even a glimpse of his mother, but surely she'd come to see him soon. And so he waited.

A man and woman appeared looking down through the glass at the rows of babies.

The little baby knew at once who they were. Father and Mother. They were a rather young Father and Mother but the baby didn't know what ages fathers and mothers usually were anyway.

Mother was beautiful. She had long golden curly hair that reached down the middle of her back and was fair-skinned with a rose-leaf completion. Father was handsome. He was blond like mother. (The Baby supposed that meant he'd grow up to have blond-gold hair too even though he was bald now) He had a thin mustache the same color as the hair one his head. He was handsome with normal-sized non-stick out ears, tall and deep chested

"Well, there it is, Elise." Jacob (Father) said from the other side of the glass.

Elise wrinkled her nose as a sign of deep displeasure. "Well that was a waste of time."

"And money." Jacob added. "I had to take off time from work for this. I could've been making important business deals."

"Well you didn't have to give birth to that child." Elise insisted she'd had the harder end of the deal. "He pushed like a mad bull. It hurt like you wouldn't believe and lasted five hours."

"They say he's healthy and we can take him home today." Jacob said.

"Must we?" Elise looked disappointed. "Don't they usually keep them for a while? I didn't think I'd have to take it with us today. Will it keep quiet? I'm tired." She rubbed her forehead. "I need rest."

A cheerful-faced middle-aged nurse picked up the little baby, carried him out of the room, and put him in his mother's arms.

The baby smiled up at Elise. Elise didn't smile back. She looked at the nurse. "Can you give us the forms so we can hurry up and get out of here?"

"Oh, Mrs. Burke, he's such a lovely baby." one of the younger nurses gushed. "What are you going to name him?"

Elise didn't know or care. "The child can have whatever name it wants. As long as it doesn't make me look bad." She handed the baby to Jacob so she could sign the forms.

The young nurse blinked in confusion wondering if she'd heard the woman wrong. Here she had a sweet little new-born boy, and she didn't seem to give a fig about him.

As soon as they reached home, Elise thrust the baby into the head maid's arms. The Head maid was sixty-four years old.

"Put the child in one of the nurseries. I need a nap." Elise ordered. She didn't say which one, there were at least three of them if not four in that house.

"What's his name?" The maid asked as the baby looked sadly after his mother who was already leaving the room.

"He doesn't have one." Elise told her.

"Well he ought to have a name." The maid insisted as firmly as she dared.

"Gwen, if it bothers you so much than you name him." Elise snapped. "I'm too tired to think of names. Wouldn't you be tired if you'd been in a bed for hours while an annoying mid-wife told you to take deep breaths and push?"

Gwen looked down at the baby. What name would suit him? His face reminded her of her dead husband, Peter. He'd died two years ago from an incurable illness of some sort. And she decided that was what she'd call the baby, Peter.

"Hullo, little Peter Burke." Gwen said as she eased down into a rocking chair and fed him a bottle of warm milk. Her voice was kind and soft.

Peter felt a little better. The nervous whinny tones of his parents had confused him and now he felt more relaxed. He started to fall asleep.

As soon as his little eyes closed, The Nurse placed the baby in his crib. "Good night."

The baby wished he could speak, so he could say 'good night' back even if he wasn't sure what it meant. It sounded good.

One year later, Little Peter Burke learned to say his first word, 'Good' He was very proud of it even though he pronounced it, 'Cood' and the maids thought he meant 'Food' and was hungry.

He'd also changed a little. He was bigger and plumper with a more rosy color to his cheeks. And just as he'd suspected, he'd grown a little blond ringlets on his head.

Peter didn't see his mother very much. She could stay away for weeks and weeks before coming back for a short visit. He still liked her though. He wasn't old enough to see that the woman he saw a saint was vain, self-centered and even a bit air-headed. And that the only times she really seemed to notice he was alive was when he cried too loudly.

At those times Elise would shout. "For the love of the lord, Gwen, can't you keep that child quiet?"

"I think he'd benefit greatly from having a play mate." Gwen told Elise during one of her rare visits to the nursery. "He's very touchy and social. I think he gets lonely."

"And where would I find a play mate for him?" Elise tapped her foot. She'd just been on her way out when that the maid had stopped her.

"Don't any of your friends have little children he could play with?" Gwen tried.

"No." Elise said in a slow, 'well that's the stupidest question I've ever pretended to listen to' sort of voice. "They used a thing called common sense which apparently Jacob doesn't have."

Peter watched his mother leave and wondered for the first time in his year of life, if maybe mother didn't like him. After all, why was she always leaving him with Gwen? And why didn't his father ever come to see him? For the first time he began to realize that the feeling he felt most of the time had name, "Sad" he was sad because his parents didn't love him.


	2. A jounery to the end of the house

Peter knew something was different or even special about this day. But he wasn't sure what. In was actually he's second birthday. But as he had no one to tell him this he was completely unaware of that fact.

He wanted Gwen to come and see him like she did nearly every day. But she didn't. He wasn't too worried about her because he'd heard something about 'the head maid visiting her family' from one of the younger maids a few days ago. He didn't know much about visiting but he did know it meant people didn't come to see him because they weren't around to do so. Often, he wondered where people went when they were visiting and why.

Because Peter was expecting one of the maids he knew, he was more than a little surprised to see a woman he didn't know come into the nursery.

She had hair like Elise's but wasn't half as beautiful in the face. She might have been if not for a rather absurdly large nose. Peter decided he liked the lady and her nose even if neither of them were all that nice to look at.

The lady didn't seem to have a real name, at least not one she was going to tell Peter, she called herself 'Auntie' and asked him strange questions like if he enjoyed the nursery or if there was any sort of treat he liked best.

Later one of the maids that cleaned the room even three weekends. (Peter didn't know her name. for a while he'd thought her name was 'Check her pockets before she leaves' because his mother said that constantly when she was in the room.) came in and said," Is it true?" To Auntie.

Auntie smiled and nodded.

The maid looked at her belly. "You can't tell yet."

"I know..." Auntie laughed. "But that can't last long. I'll probably look like a hippo soon."

"What are you going to call it?" the maid asked.

"I don't know, my husband wants me to name it Jane if it's a girl but I don't care much for that name. I was thinking of something more infesting like, Diana. If it's a boy, we're going to call him William after great grandpa William." Auntie explained.

"Which do you hope it'll be a boy or a girl?" the maid wanted to know.

"A boy." Auntie said firmly. "I'll love her just as much if she's a girl but it would be lovely to have a boy. Then we'd know what to call him and Peter here would have someone to play with. I feel just awful for him up here all the time by himself. I can't imagine what Elise was thinking..."

"Oh, he's not up here all the time." The maid said. "Gwen makes sure he goes outside a little bit every day for some sunlight and exercise and he has too other nurseries to play it that'll keep him from getting bored. He's plenty well off."

"I still say it's more of a jail than a home." Auntie looked angry and Peter wondered why. "But that's not for me to say, I was out of line." Her face softened and Peter wondered if he'd imagined her anger. "But where is Gwen today?"

"I heard she was visiting her sick sister." The maid told her.

"May-belle's been dying for thirty years, I think she's perfectly healthy." Auntie grumped. "She's just desperate for attention."

"She is ninety-five." The maid reminded her.

"And she's no less sour-faced than when she was twenty-five." Auntie half-joked.

Then with a quick goodbye, Auntie and the maid left. Peter was by himself again. He yawned and decided on a nap. He had a frightening dream that a monster with four heads was chasing him around the yard. He woke up crying. No one came. Would mother come if he cried louder? He cried louder.

The door opened.

Peter hoped it was mother. But the woman was ten pounds heavier and a great deal too ugly to be mother. It was another maid, this one was named Lessie.

"Air's 'um?" Peter asked rather crossly. That was his way of saying "Where's Mum?"

"Your Mum isn't home dear." Lessie told him. "Are you quite alright?'

Peter pouted and crossed his arms. "No."

"Good." Lessie wasn't listening to him. "I'll come back and check on you in an hour."

Early that evening, Peter could hear strange noises coming from downstairs. It sounded like people were moving things around the house.

"Not there, put that in the corner." He heard his mother's voice say.

Mum! Thought Peter happily. She was back. He crawled over to the door and pushed on the wood (He couldn't reach the knob yet) until it opened. If it had been locked it wouldn't have stood a chance but Lessie was forgetful and ever locked doors behind her.

Crawling down the carpeted stairs wasn't as easy as it had seemed. Peter was worried he might fall down them. At least they're soft, he thought. He reached one of the main living rooms and noticed with displeasure that he was actually further away from the noise than before. He'd taken a wrong turn on the stairs. Now all he could see was a white couch and a table with a glass chess set on it. He was however quite close to the kitchen and could smell something wonderfully coming from it. Someone was cooking.

Peter's stomach growled. Lessie had forgotten to give him lunch that day and he was very hungry. Gwen never forgets to feed me, Peter thought bitterly, why should Lessie? and why didn't Mum make sure she did? No matter, he'd crawl into the large kitchen and get something to eat from there.

"Ahhhh!" the cook screamed when he saw a little blond kid looking up at him blinking his blue eyes and looking annoyed. "Who or what are you?"

"Peter." Peter pointed to himself proudly. His stomach growled.

The cook handed him a piece of cheese. "Here."

Peter ate the cheese and then continued to look up at the cook.

"What do you want now?" The cook asked sounding bitter. "Some one get this kid out of here!"

"What kid?" a maid came in.

"That-" The cook point to where Peter had been mere seconds ago. "Hey, where'd he go?"

Peter had already crawled out of the kitchen and into a library with French doors. The door was all red with white plaster paintings of ladies with big hair and huge dresses. There was a lamp with a little porcelain humming bird for the on-off switch. There weren't as many books as you would expect (It was actually the servant's library they weren't allowed to use the big one that Jacob used) only a few volumes of religious newspapers and a book or two on cross-stitching. There were no children's books for none of the servants had children. Peter noticed a door with a key in it on the side of the room. It was open a crack. He crawled through it and into a cold dusty room with pink wooden stairs and a long shinny brown railing.

He decided he would climb the stairs. It led to a pink floor of the same sort as the stairs and a while door with a glass knob. The door was locked. but right across from it were more stairs. These stairs were harder to climb because they were covered with old junk that no one used anymore.

If Peter were a very little bit older, he might have wondered who on earth had ever owned such odd things. There was a play set of a fair that was cracked down the middle, broken glass flowers, broken glass boxes, broken china dolls, broken piles of wood, purple bins of old toys (That had once belonged to Jacob when he was a child).

If he'd decided to climb those stairs he would have surely been cut by all the broken glass and bled to death but he didn't like the looks of a certain clown-doll with a missing eye that was on top of the stairs and figured he wanted to get away from it, not closer to it.

So, Peter knocked on the door until a butler opened it. "Good heavens!" He exclaimed.

Peter thought the man looked funny. "Tood levens!" He repeated smiling up at the funny butler.

"How did you get in there?" The man picked him up as though he was a small puppy rather than a little boy and set him down in the room which was yet another living room. Peter crawled away again and headed down another set of stairs before the butler could catch him. This time he passed a window and noticed how dark it was getting. It was almost pitch black out. but he forgot this when he realized he was getting at last, closer to the noise. He also heard his mother's laugh.

Soon he was in a big room with lots of people in it. He didn't know any of them. It was a party but Peter who knew nothing of parties wondered, why are all these people in my house?

He crawled under the table and soon was surrounded by feet. Lots and lots of moving chairs and feet. Dinner was about to start. After a while, he fell asleep.

One of Jacob's friends felt something on his feet. "Do you have a dog?" He asked.

"No, Elise hates dog." Jacob said as he put a forkful of food into his mouth.

"Then what's sleeping on my feet?" Demanded his friend.

They looked down and saw Peter under there.

"Who's that?" Jacob asked.

"That's our son." Elise rolled her eyes. "I'm going to kill those maids. Why is he here?"

"Yes, why is Paul here?" Jacob asked.

"Peter." Elise told him.

"Like it matters." Jacob called for one of the maids to take the child out of the room.


	3. learning and freedom

Something was wrong. Peter knew it. but he wasn't sure what he knew. It was dead quiet in the house. Gwen hadn't come to check on him this morning. And no one had said anything about her going visiting. Where could she be.

He heard foot steps out side his door. "Twen?" Peter asked looking up at the door expecting the Head maid to open it at any second. But she never did. It was around this time that he realized that there was more than one person on the other side of the door, Two middle-aged maids talking amongst themselves.

"It was so sudden...she was so healthy...then that heart attack came on..." One of them said softly.

"Hush, you'll frighten the child." Said the other maid.

"Oh, he can't hear us through the wall can he?" He could but neither maid thought so.

"I suppose not. But, Adele, I do pity the soul who has to tell the child that Gwen wont be looking after him anymore." The maid answered.

"Eliza, maybe we should. Someone has too." Adele pointed out.

"Not us! Goodness knows, in most cases I wouldn't bring bad news to a grown up never mind a child." Eliza argued. "I don't think the child even knows what death is...to have to explain it...no, we'd best leave it to the new head-maid. She arrives tomorrow."

"Who is she anyway?" Adele asked. "I mean, why aren't one of us moved up to Head-maid? It's not fair I work..."

"Be careful what you wish for, do you want to be stuck with that child as if you were his mother until he's grown? The head-maid will be." Eliza reminded Adele.

Adele shuddered at the thought. "No, I don't want to raise him."

"Then be a good, grateful miss, and clean the room, see if he's all right then get out." Eliza opened the door. Peter who'd had his ear pressed against it had to jump out of the way as soon as he saw the knob turning.

Eliza thrust a tray of food into Adele's hands and pushed her into the room. "Good morning, little master...what was you're name again dear?"

"Peter." He frowned at her. He was really beginning to hate people who forgot his name. It really wasn't that hard to remember!

"Oh really?" She looked confused. "I thought you where called James or John or Jacob...I must have been mistaken."

"ty tame's Peter." The little child glared up at her looking much angrier than usual.

"I'll come back for the tray later." Adele told him. "Try not to choke on anything so we don't get in trouble, alright? That's a good boy." She gave him a pat on the head and let the room.

Back then Peter was too young to understand what had happened to Gwen. He felt sad that she never returned but it wasn't until he was a bit older that he knew that she wasn't just not coming back, but was dead. No one bothered to explain it to him. Not really. The new head-maid was twenty-three. She didn't do anything short of make sure he didn't poke his eye out with this or that. She wasn't interesting. And her name isn't important in the story. For she did almost nothing. Though she was twenty-three she was as sleepy as if she was seventy-three and was always falling asleep in the rocking chair in the down stairs nursery while Peter played on the floor.

On one such day when she sat with her head back and mouth open snoring very loudly, Peter noticed a window was open a crack. The window was pretty low. Low enough for him to push up a little more if he stood on his tip-toes. Soon it was open wide enough for him to crawl out.

The world seemed like a much more interesting place than the Burke house was. What good was a big house when you were a prisoner inside of it? When if you wandered anywhere, someone bigger than you and stronger than you always picked you up and put you back in a little room by yourself all alone? No good. But outside seemed appearing. It was big and spacious and he'd been out here but only in the fenced in yard. But the world behind the window had no fences. It was open and free. So Peter climbed out looked around. He was on a side lawn with lots of emerald green grass and a red sign. Peter wondered why the piece of cardboard was there. He didn't know how to read yet so the markings seemed very strange and he never thought it could possibly mean something as boring as "Stay off the grass or you will be sued"

On the other side of the lawn, there was a street. It wasn't very busy at that time of day, so a small boy had no problem crossing it and going over to what looked like another lawn only much bigger. It was a park. And as Peter had never been taken to one before, he was thought it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. There was a playground but it wasn't on the side Peter had entered by, the side he'd gotten into was the nature-walking area. Upon exploring, he found an enclosed spot where the trees were nicer and the grass curiously shorter and tamer despite rarely being cared for. There was also a stream running through it. Settling down under a tree, Peter decided this would be his spot.

At the end of the day, Peter went back home and climbed back in through the window. The head-maid was talking in her sleep now. "Watch out for that! No, go over there! That's glass, don't touch that..."

Peter sighed and shook his head. She was bossy even when she was asleep. The door opened causing Peter to jump a bit. Thankfully he'd just gotten his other leg on this side of the window but that point.

It was that nice big-nosed lady! The one who called herself Auntie. Peter was very happy to see her. Other than his mother and Gwen, she was the person he wanted around the most. He noticed she was a good deal more pump than she'd been the last time she'd visited. Her belly was quite large now.

"Hello Peter." She smiled at him and carried in a stack of picture books.

"Auntie!" He smiled back.

"I have something for you." The woman smiled and pulled out some picture books she'd brought for him. "I figured they'd give you enough toys to keep you busy but I thought they might forget to get books for you. That's Elise. Always forgetting things." She turned to the head-maid. "Hey, no sleeping on the job, wake up!"

The maid opened her eyes and frowned. "What? I can't take a nap now and then?"

Auntie looked at the window. "For goodness sake, look how wide you left that thing open! Peter could have crawled right out of it!" She closed the window as Peter looked through the wordless books.

He pointed to things and asked Auntie what they meant. "That's a pig." She told him.

"Tis?" (Meaning "This?") He pointed to a cow.

"That's a cow, that's where milk comes from." Auntie explained.

Milk was good, so cows must be good, Peter decided. He looked at another book and pointed to a picture of a yellow fish.

"That's a fish." Auntie told him. "They swim in the ocean. They make good meals."

"Tish?" Peter pointed to another picture. This one was of half woman-half fish.

"No, that's a mermaid." Auntie said. "Mermaids are half human like me and you, and half fish. They live in the water and have beautiful long hair that flows out behind them. They're so lovely that sailors fall in love with them." She pointed to a picture of a sailor on a boat looking over at a rock where a mermaid sat.

Peter thought that was rather funny. Think of a sailor diving into the water because he saw a pretty fish-lady! He decided he didn't like mermaids. I'm certainly never going to fall in love with one, He thought to himself.

The door opened again. "Hello?" It was Elise.

"Mum!" Peter's face lit up and he ran over and hugged her.

"Let go, you're ruining mommy's best skirt." Elise told him unwrapping his arms from around her calves. Then she turned to Auntie. "I wanted to tell you that there is chicken for dinner tonight."

"Elise, when was the last time you came to visit him?" Auntie asked noticing that Peter was fairly beaming at her as though he hadn't seen her in a year.

"A couple months ago." Elise said in a bored voice. "Why?"

"Elise!" Auntie looked horrified. "You didn't visit you're poor son for two months?"

"Why? He has everything he needs. He's cared for." She said. "Nothing worth getting upset about."

"What he needs is his mother!" Auntie protested. "A child can't grow up not knowing who the mother is."

"He knows I'm his mother." Elise said in a slow How-dumb-are-you? tone of voice. "Now I'm off. I need to check on something upstairs."

"Elise!" Auntie looked very angry. "I can't deal with her!" This was why she hated coming to visit her sister. (She was Elise's Sister but she had the last name Burke as well because she was married to Jacob's brother) She always left upset. "Goodbye Peter." She said. "I hope some day something can be done about this."

Peter hoped so too.


	4. When goodbye really means goodbye

Peter was three years old now and more lonely than ever. Elise came to see him less and less frequently. The last time he'd seen her had been nearly four and a half months ago. That is, the last time he'd seen her because she'd visited him was four and a half months ago. The last time he'd actually caught sight of her was two days ago.

There was a dinner party being given down stairs and Peter had tip-toed passed the sleeping head-maid and into the sitting room where everyone talked before dinner. He cleverly crawled into the wardrobe pulled the door almost all the way shut (Almost, because even at three Peter knew better than to shut himself in a wardrobe). He thought the wood behind him felt very cold and thought. "Wouldn't it be funny if it turned into a snowy wood?" But of course that was pure silliness. Think of a wood inside a wardrobe.

Even if there is a magic wardrobe somewhere in the world-though likely there's not-I certainly wont be the one to find it. Peter thought to himself. Then he had no more time for thinking because his mother entered the room and he wanted to hear what she was saying.

"Yes, Anne, it's true." Elise said as she took a sip of wine from the crystal glass Jacob had handed her. (It had been at least a year since Peter had last seen his father, Jacob at this point. And with all honesty I cannot say he wasn't secretly very happy to see him there despite Jacob's obvious lack of interest in being a father). "We are moving to a new house next week."

"What's it like?" Anne asked.

"Nicer than this one." Elise said. "A bit smaller but newer and in a richer part of town."

"Will you sell this house, Elise?" Another woman asked.

"No." Elise shook her head. "Jacob and I talked it over and realized we don't need the money from the house. We have so much money cramming up the bank right now that the tellers complain they can't fit it all. We're going to close off the house until we decide what'll be done with it."

"What about giving it to Jacob's brother?" Anne suggested. "It was their father's house and he's awful fond of it."

"Mr. Burke left the house to Jacob not his brother." Elise said firmly. "and my sister seems to fancy that hideous shack she lives in so what good would it do?" (Auntie did not live in a shack it was a very nice house but was much smaller and less showy than Elise's and thus was not approved by rich snobs such as them.)

"I trust your new home has a good sized nursery?" One of Jacob's friends said.

"No." Elise told them. "It has no nursery at all."

"What will you do about the little brat then?" One lady asked. "Where will you put him?"

"Don't worry." Jacob said. "We've already decided what's to be done about little Parker."

"Peter." Elise corrected him.

"Whatever." Jacob took a sip of wine and looked indifferent to the fact that he still couldn't remember his own son's name.

Peter felt very excited at hearing this news. They weren't going to shut him up in the nursery anymore. At the new home he'd be part of the family at last. What was to be done about him surely meant that he'd be given a normal room that he could go in and out of as he pleased. And in a smaller house Elise would have less too watch over and more time for him. And maybe the head-maid wouldn't come. Peter didn't like her. He didn't mind Lessie, Eliza, and Adele so much because they rarely bossed him or insisted he do (Or stop doing) anything. But the head-maid was another matter. He wished she'd go away and Gwen would come back. Gwen had always been kind and thoughtful even when she scolded him. The only thing he worried about at this new place would be if he could still go to his spot in the park. Would it be too far away? Perhaps with mother around he wouldn't even miss it. Or need it.

During the next few days, boxes were packed left and right and Peter was kept in the nursery (As usual) and out of the hair of the movers. Then one day after everything had been packed up, Elise walked in the room.

"Mum!" Peter cried happily.

"Come darling," She took his hand and marched him out of the nursery. "We're going for a drive today."

Peter was fairly shaking with excitement. He'd never been on a drive before. He'd seen his parents go out in their shinny car often but they never took him with them. He was even more excited when he saw that Jacob was in the car too. Oh he _was_ going to send more time with the family now! Wasn't this the very nicest thing that had ever happened to him in his whole life?

"Why are you shaking?" Elise asked her son. "You don't need to be scared. We're taking you to a very nice place."

The new house, that's where they're taking me, Thought Peter. It must be very nice if mother likes it so. She has good taste. I wonder, will I miss this house at all? I don't think I will.

"Well little Patrick," His father said in a proud voice as he started up the car. "Today is a very big day for you."

"Dear, his name is Peter." Elise corrected him again.

Why couldn't his father remember his name? Well, no matter. He'd have to remember once they all started doing things together as a family. And then he'd never be called Paul, Parker, or Patrick again.

"Anyway, little...er...child," Jacob started again. "I think you'll like where we're taking you. They'll be lots of other children for you to run and play with."

Why were there other children at the new house? He'd thought it would be just him and them. Oh well, it might be nice to have someone to play with. Father could be right.

I wonder how many other children will be at this new house. Peter thought. What if I don't like them? Will mum like them better than me? I do hope they wouldn't dislike me.

The car stopped in front of a large building with gray-bricks and iron siding and arches. Peter didn't think it was so great. This house wasn't pretty at all unlike the one they'd just left. But he didn't care. So long as it made mother and father happy and so long as they were all together, it was alright.

"Do make it quick, Elise." Jacob said. "We've a lot to do today."

Make what quick? Wondered Peter. What's going on?

Elise took him out of the back of the car and carried him into the building.

Say, Peter thought. This is the first time Mum's ever carried me anywhere. usually she makes me stay in the nursery or walk by her side if we're out doors.

Inside the house were long wooden hallways that reeked of overly-strong pine wood. Elise set him down now and took his hand leading him all the way into one of the side rooms where a man sat behind a desk.

What's he doing here? Peter wondered. Is he the new butler? Why does he sit behind a desk like that looking all tired? Maybe he's the cook?

"Mrs. Burke I presume?" The man asked with out looking up from his stack of papers.

"That's me." Elise said.

Now the man looked up. He walked over to Peter and bent down on his knee so they were eye to eye. "This must be Peter."

He knows my name. Peter thought excitedly. Mother must have told him. Mother does care. Things are going to be very different from now on.

"How old are you, Peter?" The man asked.

"Three." Peter told him.

"My name is Mr. Smelter." The man said shaking Peter's hand. "You're the youngest one here."

The other children, Peter remembered. I'm the youngest of all of them. Why is that?

"Oh aren't there any children his own age for him to play with?" Elise asked looking rather disappointed for a moment.

"We have two four year olds." Mr. Smelter told her. "Twins a boy and a girl. Most of the others are between seven and twelve."

"Well that's not too bad." Elise quickly got over her disappointment. "Peter, be a good boy and don't give Mr. Smelter or the other nice people here a hard time. Okay?"

"Yes mum." Peter said wondering why his mother looked like she was about to leave. She wasn't just going to leave him with Mr. Smelter was she?

Outside Jacob honked the car horn. "Let's get a move on!"

"Hold your horses!" Elise shouted out the window. Then she gave Peter a kiss on the forehead and left the room, went down the hallway, and out the door.

"Well then, Peter, are you ready to meet the others?" Mr. Smelter asked.

"Okay." Peter said agreeably. He might as well do something until mother realized that in her hurry she'd forgotten him. And father would have to turn the whole car around. Poor mother, Father was in such a hurry and he'd be mad when she remembered she'd forgotten him here.

A tall woman named Arabelle came into Mr. Smelter's office and took Peter's hand, leading him into another room.

This room was very different from Mr. Smelter's office. It had a long gray carpet on the floor instead of just wood. And there was a table with newspapers on it. All the newspapers were scribbled on with crayons. (Peter later found out this was because none of the children had coloring books so you used newspapers). There was also a row of chairs in from of a small wooden radio. There were a few toys and games most of which were missing a piece or two scattered around here and there. And about twenty stuffed animals that looked rather old and beaten up were stacked in one corner.

But what was more interesting than the room itself was the children in it. Two eleven year old boys and a twelve year old girl all sat in front of the radio listening to it. The two boys there looked exactly alike and had to be twins they had dark hair and eyes that matched the color of their hair. The girl looked just like them and was probably their older sister. None of those three noticed Peter and Arabelle enter the room. Of if they did, they didn't care.

The two four year twins a boy and a girl were sitting at the table coloring newspapers. The girl had long red hair that was down to her waist and green eyes, the boy had brown hair and green eyes. They noticed Arabelle.

"Arabelle!" Cried the girl twin happily. "Who is that?"

"He's new." Arabelle told them. "His name is Peter Burke."

"Hey, that's real close to my name!" The girl laughed. "I'm Petta Borke. It'll be like having a brother."

Her real brother frowned. "I'm you're brother."

"But you're not fun, Carl." Petta said. "I want a different brother."

"How old are you?" Carl asked.

"Three." Peter told them.

"Then we're older and you have to do whatever we say." Carl decided. "This will be fun after all. We wont be the babies anymore."

"Now, Carl." Arabelle gave him a stern look. "What did we say about bossing other children?"

"That it's bad?" Carl said.

"Right and no one will want to adopt you if you're bad will they?" Arabelle reminded him. "People want good little children, who are kind to those younger and newer than they are."

"People will want me." Petta decided. "I'm the nicest child here."

"No you're not!" Carl shouted.

"Carl's right." a six year old named Emily cut in. "I'm much nicer than you."

"Are not, Emily!" Petta argued.

"Are too Petta!" Emily argued back. "I shared my lunch with a stray cat."

"Well, I shared my dinner with a stray dog and a hurt bird." Petta said loudly. "and in going to befriend the new kid so that makes me the nicest one."

"I'm going to be his friend too." Emily said only because she didn't want to be out-done by Petta.

"Copy cat." She said.

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Don't say mean things about my sister." Carl cut in. "She's better than you."

"Is not." Emily insisted.

Emily best friend Matthew challenged Carl to a fist fight which Arabelle had to put a stop to by sending them both to bed early.

Peter looked up at Arabelle. "When mum come back?" He asked. He didn't like the other children much.

"Oh your Mum's not coming back." The girl in front of the radio said moving a lock of dark hair away from her eyes.

"Madison!" Arabelle scolded. "He's three!"

"Still. he ought to know." Madison said coolly. She pointed to her brothers. "Our grandma dropped us off here when we were your age and we're still here. What does that tell you?"

Peter started to cry. Somehow he knew that they were telling the truth and the Elise was not coming back.

"Oh, well done, Madison!" One of her brothers barked. "You've made the little blighter cry!"

"Shut up Ronnie."

"No you shut up."

"Don't tell Madison to shut up." The other brother cut him.

"Stay out of this Ralph!"

Peter didn't hear them arguing. He could hear nothing over his own sobs.


	5. Peter Burke meets Helen Pevensie

Peter Burke didn't like the orphanage one bit. In some ways it was worse than being locked up in the nursery had been. The nursery had it perks. The open window to climb out and a sleepy guardian and the rare visit from Mother or Auntie. But the orphanage had none of that. It wasn't a bad place to live, certainly not like the orphanage you read about in story-books where the hero or heroine is half starved and cruelly treated by the staff. But it wasn't a place that anyone would want to live in if it could be avoided.

It was a small state-run building. Everything was scrubbed clean and neat to avoid lost of funding. The floors in the hall tended to be rather slippery from being cleaned too often.

His first night there was certainly unpleasant. He wasn't given his own room he had to share a room with all the other children. It was a long, hallway much longer than the one that smelled like pine. (This one smelled like someone smashed a bottle of perfume on a damp tree trunk.) With row of plain iron-framed beds with brown sheets.

"Good night little boy." Arabelle had said not unkindly but not very soothingly either, as she folded down the chocolate brown comforter on the bed revealing extra-light coffee brown sheets.

Peter crawled in. "The sheets feel scratchy." He said.

Arabelle didn't answer him, she was too busy putting Petta and Carl to bed which was no easy task because Carl having been sent to bed early because of fighting now declared himself not tired and Petta seemed no longer as concerned with being the nicest girl there as being able to stay up late because it wasn't fair that Carl got to have all the fun.

"Petta, lay down." Arabelle pleaded. "Don't you want to be a good girl?"

"No!" Petta said in a sulky voice. "I want to stay up!"

"Tell her only I can stay up." Carl shouted.

"None of you can stay up." Arabelle told them. Then she turned to Matthew who had his index finger shoved up his right nostril. "Matthew, stop picking your nose!"

"Ew!" The child in the bed right next to Matthew's cried. "Matthew wont stop showing me his snot!"

"I'm asleep, look at me!" Emily said loudly from the other end of the hall.

"If you're asleep than shut your pie hole." Carl screamed at her.

"Carl, be nice." Arabelle told him as she tried to get Madison to stop whining about how she had to go to bed at the same time as the little kids.

"I'm twelve!" She said. "I shouldn't have to go to bed till much later."

Peter started to cry again. He didn't like the other children. He was used to going to sleep in silence. And he was also used to having his favorite stuffed duck, "Mr. Duckers" (Yes, the stuffed animal was really called Mr. Duckers but give the kid a break he was three).

He cried himself to sleep that night and often cried during the day too. He didn't play much with the other children. He did grow to like Petta and Emily quite a bit even though they quarreled constantly. They were the only ones who showed any real interest in being his friends. The others weren't very nice to him.

Carl always called him names and bossed him around until Petta threatened him into stopping. Matthew swiped food off his plate when Arabelle wasn't looking. Madison told scary stories that made him wet himself in front of all the other children.

At lunch he'd sit with Petta on his left and Emily on his right. This worked out well because Petta's dirty looks kept Carl from picking on Peter during the meal and Emily slapped Matthew's hand if he tried to pick off of Peter's plate.

About three days after he'd arrived, a familiar woman arrived at the orphanage. It was Adele the maid. Peter had been very excited thinking his mother and Father had sent her to come get him and that Madison had been wrong after all. But it turned out she was only there with some clothes for him in a suitcase.

"Elise said she didn't want him in rags because it would make her look bad." Adele explained to Arabelle as she handed her the gray-colored suit case.

"The children here do not wear rags." Arabelle told her firmly.

"Very well then." Adele said. "I must be off."

"Don't you want to say hello to the little boy?" She asked. "He's right over there looking at us from that crack in the door."

"No, miss, I don't wish to see him." Adele said. "He's not my child. And I never knew him all that well. He just lived in the room I cleaned."

"Told you, your mum wasn't coming back." Madison said almost cruelly. "See, she didn't even come to drop off your clothes."

"Leave him alone, Maddie." Emily said protectively.

"Don't call me Maddie." Madison practically spat. "My name's Mad-e-sun!"

"Come on, Peter, you don't need to listen to her jaw." Petta said kindly. "Let's go color some newspapers." She handed him the only unbroken crayon in the bunch.

As Peter colored in a black-and-white photo of some angry looking politician, Emily told him that this was a very special day.

"What's so good about it?" Peter wanted to know.

"Mrs. Helen's coming." Petta said as she dung through the cardboard box looking for a green crayon.

"Petta, don't call her Helen." Emily said primly. "We must call her Mrs. Pevensie."

"She said I could call her Helen." Petta said.

"Did not." Emily pouted.

"Did too." Petta insisted.

"She did no such thing." Emily argued trying to pull the newly found green crayon out of Petta's hand.

"Let go." Petta shouted tightening her grip on the crayon.

"You let go." Emily shouted back.

"Who's Melen?" Peter asked.

"Helen." Emily corrected him.

"I thought you said we had to call her Mrs. Pevensie." Petta reminded her.

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"Who is she?" Peter asked again.

"I'll tell him." Emily decided.

"No, I will." Petta glared at her.

"Fine." Emily gave in. "But I get the green crayon."

"Deal." They shook hands and Petta gave her the crayon, then turned her attention to Peter.

"Mrs. Helen Pevensie is a very nice lady who comes and visits us." Petta explained. "She sometimes brings new toys with her but mostly she comes in an talks to us and plays games. She's lots of fun. Everyone loves her, even Madison. And Madison hates just about everyone."

"She hasn't come in a while." Emily cut in. "But I heard that she was coming today."

"Stay out of it, or gimme back my crayon." Petta told her.

Emily pouted and went back to coloring. Giving news to the new kid wasn't worth losing what she wanted.

"She'll be here this afternoon." Petta said.

That afternoon, Peter sat looking out the window watching the rain fall. He knew the others were very excited about this Mrs. Pevensie coming but he wasn't. So what if a nice lady came in with games and was kind to them? She wasn't mum or Auntie. It wouldn't be the same. She'd come and she'd go and he's been here in this dreadful place having only two picky girls for friends.

The door bell rang in the front hall.

Arabelle answered the door. "Ah, Mrs. Pevensie. The children were so thrilled when they heard you were coming." then she looked down at her belly. "Oh, you're getting bigger."

"I know." Mrs. Pevensie said with a goofy smile. "I went to the doctor's yesterday, they say the child will probably be very healthy when he or she is born."

"That's great." Arabelle said as she took Helen's umbrella and hat hanging them up on a hook by the door.

Helen walked into the room where all the children were. "Hullo."

"Mrs. Pevensie!" They shouted happily.

Carl beamed at her (A very rare thing for his sort almost never beam at anyone).

"I drew you a picture, Helen." Petta ran over with a smudged picture of a rainbow.

"That's lovely dear." Helen smiled at her. "So very colorful."

"I have a picture too." Carl said he handed her the finger painting he'd done the other day. It was of what looked like a very fat monkey.

"Now nice." Helen told him. "A monkey."

"It's supposed to be an elephant." Carl looked disappointed.

"And he's a lovely elephant." Mrs. Pevensie tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, the children are a bit energetic today." Arabelle apologized.

"Don't worry about it." Helen laughed. "I don't mind." Matthew ran up to her with his own picture. It was a green monster eating a big car with a stick figure there was a speech bubble that said "Help me." in big letters.

"What do you think?" Matthew asked looking very eager.

"It's very...original." Helen tried (in vain this time) not to laugh.

Peter heard laughing. He decided he liked the laugh but didn't look for the source of it. He just kept looking out the window.

"Madame Blackie, missed you." Emily said showing Helen her stuffed bear.

Madison got up and gave Mrs. Pevensie a light hug. "Good afternoon. ma'am."

Mrs. Pevensie noticed the little boy sitting at the window seat. "Who is that?"

"That's Peter Burke." Arabelle whispered. "His parents left him here a few days ago, he cries a lot. He hangs around with Emily and Petta or by himself. I don't think he's happy here."

"Poor little thing." Mrs. Pevensie walked over to him. "Hello." She said.

"Hullo." He said, looking up at her at last. She was pretty he decided but in a very different way from Mum. Mum was golden haired and looked like a china doll. Helen looked more like what most people would think of as a mum. She had short curly brown hair warm friendly blue eyes that weren't icy and distant like Elise's.

"Mind if I sit with you?" Helen asked.

The little boy shook his head. He didn't mind. The other's were right, she was wonderful. He'd known her for under a minute and already liked her.

She took a seat. Peter noticed she had to ease down because of a large belly. He thought of Auntie who also had a large belly like that.

She sat and talked to him for a while and asked questions and invited him to play games with her and the other children.

After a few hours she turned to leave. "Don't go." Cried Peter sadly.

"I have to dear." Mrs. Pevensie sighed. She felt very sorry for the boy. She liked him the best of all the orphans. Probably because he needed her more than the others did. "I'll try to come back soon."

Peter grabbed onto her leg. He wouldn't let go until Arabelle pulled him off of her. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Pevensie." She said apologetically. "He's not usually like this."

"That's quite alright." Mrs. Pevensie said she looked very thoughtful.

"You want to what?" Mr. Pevensie asked that night when Helen told him what she had in mind.

"I think we should adopt that little boy, Peter." Helen said.

"But Helen, We're already going to have a child..." He said doubtfully. "You can't help every orphan in the world."

"I know, but I really think this one needs us." Mrs. Pevensie said almost tearfully. "You didn't see the look on his face when I turned to leave. I bet his own mother didn't get that reaction out of him."

Mr. Pevensie sighed. "Tell you what, let's go down and see him tomorrow. We'll take it from there."


	6. The Little Pevensie boy

"Mrs. Pevensie?" Arabelle said when she opened the door at lunchtime and saw the familiar woman standing there along with her husband. "I didn't know you were coming to visit today. The children will be pleased but you might have called ahead of time."

Helen nodded apologetically. "I am sorry if I am interrupting anything, Arabelle, but I...I mean, my husband and I were interested in adopting, that little boy."

Arabelle would not have been more surprised if Mrs. Pevensie had told her that she was interested in buying bombs and blowing up things. "But aren't you..." She looked down at Helen's belly.

"Yes, I am." Helen said. "but why should that matter?"

"My wife is right." Mr. Pevensie added. "What does the fact that we can have children ourselves have to do with adopting? Last I checked, the rule was not that you must be barren in order to consider such a thing."

"Yes, of course." Arabelle stammered, feeling rather foolish. "I'm sorry, I've had a headache all day and can't think clearly. And you've come right before I could settle down the children and have my lunch you see..."

Mr. Pevensie sighed. "Sorry then. But may we at least see the boy? I haven't met him yet though Helen has told me about him."

"Which boy was it?" Arabelle asked. "Matthew? Carl? If you take Carl, I'm afraid you must take Petta as well. It wouldn't do to have one here with out the other."

"Carl and Matthew are lovely boys, but I meant Peter Burke." Helen explained, thinking of the poor lonely little child she'd spoken with only the day before. If anyone needed a home, it was him.

"Are you in earnest?" Arabelle asked looking quite confused. "He's got such a bad habit of crying all the time-we can't seem to break him out of it-it's a wonder he hasn't taken sick."

"We'd like to see him please." Mr. Pevensie said shortly, not because he was cross but because he was rather eager to see the boy for himself.

"Right this way." Arabelle told them as she led them down to the dinning hall where all the children were having lunch at a long wooden table.

Carl flung his carrot at Peter, who let out a whimper.

"Hey!" Emily shouted standing up on her chair. "I saw that it was you, Carl!"

"Emily, sit down." Arabelle said as she entered the room with Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie following close behind.

Carl flung a green pea at her, causing Petta to slap him upside the head sharply twice in a row.

"Ow, whatja do that for?" Carl demanded frowning at her.

"Once, for Peter and once for Emily." Petta said simply. Another shouting match would have began had not Emily at least noticed Mrs. Pevensie.

"Mrs. Pevensie!" She cried out happily, still standing on her chair despite glares, snickers and pleas all urging her to come down.

"Who's that?" Ralph asked, noticing Helen's husband.

"Hush, Ralph!" Madison barked. Though at most times, Madison was a bitter person and unpleasant to all, She admired Mrs. Pevensie and didn't want her to think that she was related to anyone who was ill-mannered.

"It's her husband, stupid." Ronnie whispered loudly to his brother.

"I said, hush." Madison hissed.

"Shut up." Both her brother sneered at once.

Peter said nothing but he smiled a toothy grin at Helen and her husband. He decided he liked Mr. Pevensie almost as much as Mrs. Pevensie. He liked the way the man looked at him. It wasn't the way Jacob had looked at him, barely noticing his presence, but with an honest concern that Peter had never seen in a grown man's face before.

"Hello, Peter." Helen smiled back at him.

Peter was too happy to answer. He couldn't believe she was back so soon. Emily had told him that she came once every three weeks or so. And when he'd heard that, his heart had sank. To a three year old boy, 'three weeks or so' might as well have been 'maybe in fifty years'.

"Don't be rude, boy." Madison glared at him.

"Go sit on a pin, Maddie." Petta defended her friend.

Madison's eyes darkened and Carl swore for ever after that he'd seen them go red and glow like a mongoose. She would have shouted at Petta and perhaps even thrown something at her but couldn't bring herself to do so in front of guests. At least not guests like the wonderful Pevensie couple.

"So this is Peter." Mr. Pevensie said not unkindly. "You are three years old?"

"Yes." Peter managed to say because the boy on the other side of Petta had leaned over and pinched him. (Shortly after, Petta slapped the boy and was sent to her room but that is another story. I mention it now only to explain why Petta falls out of the scene after this.)

"You should say, 'Yes sir.'" Arabelle corrected him.

"Yes, sir." He felt very ashamed that he had not thought to say it himself.

"Go over to him." Arabelle instructed Peter. "You shouldn't sit at the table when people over here are talking to you."

Peter got up from his seat.

"Oh, you needn't get up without your lunch." Helen said feeling sorry for the boy. He looked so scared. She wondered why he was shaking.

"He's nearly finished anyway." Arabelle said, looking down at the half-eaten food on the plate, as they led the boy into another room.

"Can you tell us a little about yourself?" Mr. Pevensie asked him.

Peter sighed. He didn't like to talk about himself. It seemed that everyone who wanted to talk to him only wanted to hear him speak about where he'd lived before. And that reminded him of Elise and Jacob. Mum and Dad. And that made him want to start crying all over again. Why hadn't they come back for him? Didn't his father love him? Didn't his mother? Even a little. But he felt he really must tell Mr. Pevensie all about it anyway.

"I lived in a big house there was nice lady named Gwen. And some other ladies called Lessie, Eliza, and Adele. I didn't like them. I liked mum. She's the one who left me here. Madison says she's not coming back. I believe her." Peter explained as quickly as he could, trying not to cry in front of the nice man. His face was twisting out of shape.

"It's alright." Mr. Pevensie said softly, kneeling down so they were eye to eye. "It's alright if you want to cry. I cry sometimes too."

Peter blinked up at him. "You? really?" He couldn't picture the tall strong fellow in front of him with a red face and tears streaming down his face.

"Sure." Mr. Pevensie said. "People cry all the time."

"Emily does." Peter agreed. "But the others don't."

"Trust me, it's okay to cry." He assured him, he took out a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Peter.

Peter did cry. He blew his nose loudly into Mr. Pevensie's handkerchief. Afterwards he felt a little better though nothing had changed.

"Tell me, what do you want more than anything else in the world?" Mr. Pevensie asked after he'd had his cry.

Peter thought it over. Until yesterday he would have said for Elise to come back for him. But thinking it over, he wasn't sure if he would really like that. Elise clearly didn't love him enough to be a mother. And now that he was a little older, he thought maybe he didn't like her very much as a mother. He liked Helen though. And her husband. More than anything, he wished they wouldn't leave that they could stay here with him and the others. Maybe with people like them around, he wouldn't want to cry as much. Maybe he'd finally know what 'happy' felt like.

"Anything?" He asked, just to be sure.

"Anything." Mr. Pevensie said.

"I wish you and Helen would stay here with us." Peter told him. "I like you."

Looking into the boy's eyes as he said this, Mr. Pevensie understood why Helen had been so set on taking him in. He did need a family. He looked over to his wife. "I think we should speak with Mr. Smelter."

Peter didn't understand what this meant but Emily who'd snuck away and was listening at the door, smiled. "Peter!" She said running into the room as soon as the Pevensie couple left it. "Don't you understand what's happening?"

Peter shook his head. "The nice people wanted to talk to me?"

Emily jumped up and down. "Their going to talk to Mr. Smelter!"

"So?" Peter couldn't figure out why she was so excited.

"Peter, you goose-head, they're going to adopt you!" Emily squealed with delight. "No one goes to see Mr. Smelter unless they're going to take one of us away."

"Away where?" He wanted to know.

"Away to live with Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie." Emily said, still in a breathless excitement. "I'm so happy for you. They're so nice. You're so lucky, I'd give anything to go home with them."

"Why would they take me with them?" Peter was confused.

Emily shook her head. "You'd be their son."

"There's not my parents." Peter said. Though he did wish they were.

"They will be!" Emily exclaimed. "That's what adopting means. It means they get to be your mum and dad."

"Really?" Peter asked. This had to be a wonderful dream. Things like this never happened. He almost got excited but them remembered the last time he'd felt like that. It was the day, Elise had left him He'd thought they were all going to be a family at last. And he'd been wrong. Emily could be wrong now too.

"Don't you see?" Emily didn't understand how he could be so very calm. If she was in his place she would be dancing about. "You aren't going to be a Burke anymore."

"I'm not?" Peter asking, scratching his head, feeling more puzzled than ever. No one had ever suggested he could stop being a Burke before.

"No, you'll be a Pevensie." Emily said happily. "Wait until Madison finds out. Oh, she'll feel bad about how she's treated you."

"Will she?" Madison had never seemed to feel bad about anything.

"Yes!" Emily cried jumping up and down again. "You wont forget me when you go, will you?"

"No." Peter smiled at her. "Friends don't forget."

Meanwhile, in Mr. Smelter's office, Mr. Smelter lit his pipe and started to smoke as he looked over some papers. "Well, all seems to be in order." He told them. "There's no reason you wouldn't be able to take the boy..."

"But?" Mrs. Pevensie asked knowing it was coming.

"But are you sure?" Mr. Smelter asking. "You barely know this child and you've got one of your own on the way. You don't know anything about his parents or..."

"I'll expect you to fill us in, you should have all the paper work." Mr. Pevensie said in an almost snappy voice. "You needn't talk us out of something we are dead-set on, you know better."

"Why don't we just put it under temporary care for the time being?" Mr. Smelter offered. "Then if he becomes to much for you, you could just bring him back here, no questions asked."

Mr. Pevensie glared at him. "He's a little boy, not a puppy. That is no how you raise children. You don't dump them off at the first signs of trouble."

Mr. Smelter let out a chuckle. "Tell that to some of the children here."

"We don't want temporary care." Mr. Pevensie said. "A child cannot grow up properly not knowing when he could be dumped off like a stray mutt."

"Fine then." Mr. Smelter sighed, shuffling some papers and stabling them together. "How about this?" He pulled out another document.

Mr. Pevensie read it over. "That's better."

"Yes, and see here." Mr. Smelter pointed to a loop hole. "It says that if the boy develops any sort of mental illness or unbreakable dangerous habit, we make take him back but only under the extreme case of deeply rooted trouble but you can't just drop him off."

"Yes, but don't tell him about that." Mr. Pevensie said sternly.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Mr. Smelter agreed. "Now I bring up the mental illness subject because the boy in question..."

"Peter." Helen said.

"Huh? What's that?" Mr. Smelter hadn't heard her.

"He has a name." She said.

"Indeed he does, the bo-Peter, I mean, has a problem with constant crying, you may have noticed...we don't know if that's do to any medical..."

"Mr. Smelter, Peter probably cries because his parents left him here at the drop of a hat." Mrs. Pevensie reminded him.

"Very well." Mr. Smelter frowned, annoyed with them already. He wasn't as used to dealing with people who cared as opposed to people who didn't. "Sign here."

As they signed, Mr. Smelter pulled out a folder. "I have family history...not compete...sorry...I'll see what can be done about that, blood type, things of the like, just about everything...Mrs. Burke didn't leave a birth certificate though...can you do with out one? She's very hard to get in touch with."

"We should be fine." Helen told him.

"Have a nice day." Mr. Smelter told them as he opened the door and they started to walk out.

"We can take him home today right?" Mr. Pevensie checked.

"Oh, yes, the sooner he gets used to his new home the better." Mr. Smelter agreed. "Best not to drag these things out."

"Come along, dear." Helen said taking one of Peter's hands in as she entered the playroom. "You'll be coming with us."

Emily was right! Peter hugged her legs. "I can really come and live with you? For real?" He asked, beaming up at her.

Helen nodded.

"Have a good life squirt." Ronnie waved to him before Madison slapped his hand down.

Petta (Who finally returns to the story for a last appearance) and Emily hugged him goodbye so tightly he couldn't breathe.

Matthew gave in a picture of a monster playing the drums that he'd drawn (Peter though it looked more like a moose eating a chicken).

Carl waved and smiled.

Peter walked into the Pevensie's car feeling very strange as they rode down the street.

I wonder what sort of house they live in. He though to himself. I hope I like it. I wonder if they have any pets. I hope it's not something that growls and bites if they do.

"We're here." Mr. Pevensie announced as he stopped the car in front of a nice-looking little house. Peter thought it seemed much more homey than the house he used to live in. He thought he might really come to like it.

"Does anyone live over there?" Peter asked pointed to the house next to them. He had in a strange sort of way, actually come to like other children and wondered if there were any near enough to play with.

"No." Mr. Pevensie answered. "it's vacant." (This was before the lady in the fic "Susan's Secret" who's pool Susan swam in after being moonstruck for the first time moved in)

Mr. Pevensie took Peter's suitcase out of the back of the car before heading to the front door. He fumbled for his keys, and finding them at last, he unlocked the house and the door swung open.

It was Peter's first glance of his new home and he liked it. It wasn't big and impersonal like the Burke house. It was clean but not overly clean like the orphanage. It had a rich smell of baking sweet bread though nothing had been baked all day.

"Why don't you show him his room?" Helen asked her husband. "I need to lie down for a bit." She went up to her room and rested hoping Peter liked his new home.

Mr. Pevensie opened a door which led to a nice room, with a bed with a plain green cover over it. "This used to be a guest room, but we'll fix it up for you."

"Where will the guests sleep?" Peter wondered aloud.

"We have a couple more bedrooms we're not using that a guest could stay in, we'd just have to get a new bed for them is all." Mr. Pevensie said. The house though not Burke-sized wasn't tiny. "And anyway, we don't get guests all that often."

Peter walked in and looked out the window. It had a nice view. A very different more towny view than he was used to, but nice all the same.

Hours later, Mrs. Pevensie sat downstairs knitting sitting in her rocking chair, humming to herself while Mr. Pevensie listened to the nightly news on the radio.

"Where's Peter?" He asked suddenly.

"Yes, where is he?" Helen wondered. "He's not still up in his room is he?"

"He is with out a doubt the quietest kid, I've ever known." Mr. Pevensie laughed. "I haven't heard a peep out of him."

"I'll go see if he's alright." Helen decided, slowly easing herself out of the chair and up the stairs. "It's nearly supper time anyway, he ought to be down here."

Peter was sitting in his room quietly doing nothing other than sighing every once in a while. He liked having a home but it was lonely.

"Aren't you coming down for supper, Peter?" Helen asked.

"Oh, may I?" Peter's face lit up. He'd never been allowed to eat at the same table as Elise and Jacob. He'd assumed that meant children didn't eat with their parents. "I've never eaten with grown ups before." Then he thought over it that was strictly true. "Other than Gwen and maybe Arabelle, I mean."

Helen was caught somewhere between wanting to laugh at his innocence and wanting to cry at how deprived the poor child was. "Of course, families are supposed to eat together."

Peter stood up and followed her down the stairs. Mr. Pevensie didn't usually cook but since his wife was pregnant he had taken over the cooking for the time being. The food smelled wonderful.

He took a seat at the table feeling as though he was in a dream. He looked down at the alphabet place mat that had been put in front of him. He decided he liked it very much.

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup." Mr. Pevensie said with a smile as he set Helen's and Peter's plates down on the table.

It was a wonderful supper for Peter. It was such fun listening to Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie talk about their day. Jacob and Elise had never talked about their day. At least not in front of him.

After supper they all sat in the living room.

"You mean I don't have to go upstairs yet?" Peter had asked, feeling so happy he thought he might explode from it. They weren't going to send him to his room? They actually wanted him around?

Mr. Pevensie asked Peter if he knew how to play checkers. He didn't so he and Helen taught him. What fun it was.

"Can I call you Mum and Dad?" Peter asked them as he finished a fourth game of checkers against Mr. Pevensie.

"Sure." Mr. Pevensie said. "If you want to."

"Then I can I be a Pevensie like you two?" Peter wanted to know.

"Of course, sweetie." His new mum gave him a kind smile.

For the next three weeks, the boy was so happy about being a Pevensie that he refused to answer when they just called him, "Peter" he answered only when they said, "Peter Pevensie."

Both Mr. And Mrs. Pevensie had a good laugh over this. It was funniest when they'd forget and he'd look at them, paying attention to them, but not coming, waiting to hear the last part of his name.

"Why is Mum's belly so big?" Peter asked his new father one day.

"There's a baby in it." He explained.

"What's it doing in there?" Peter asked feeling very confused.

"It's not born yet." Mr. Pevensie told him

"Oh." Peter said, trying to understand.

Later he asked his new mum about it. "Is there really a baby in your belly? Dad said there was."

Helen smiled and put his hand on her belly. Peter felt something kick his hand from under there. "Hey! that's funny." he laughed.

"You'll have a sibling soon." She said as soon as his laughter died down a bit.

"What if it doesn't like me?" Peter worried.

"Of course the baby will like you." She assured him.

"You sure?" Peter asked nervously.

"Yes." Helen tried not to laugh.

"What's the baby going to be like?" Peter wanted to know.

"Bald and drooling most likely." Mrs. Pevensie teased. "But you'll grow to love it, it's impossible not to love a baby."

Peter was glad that she said that, because deep down he had the feeling that Elise wouldn't have agreed with that last statement. But he didn't have to worry or cry about that ever again because he wasn't Peter Burke anymore. He was Peter Pevensie.


	7. Must love Lions

It was the weekend but Peter didn't really know how a weekend was different from any other weekday. How could he know about weekends when nothing had ever changed from Friday to Saturday in his life? In the nursery, he was expected to be just as quiet on weekends as on weekdays.

But he woke up with a strange feeling that there was something very different about this day after all. the strange excitement was only added to when he noticed that for the first time in five days, Mr. Pevensie was home when he woke up. Usually he was gone in the mornings and came back in the evening. But now he sat with his paper sipping coffee.

"Ah, good morning, Peter." He said when the boy entered the room. "...Pevensie." He remembered to add.

Peter smiled. "No work today?"

"No, son, today is Saturday." Mr. Pevensie explained, folding up the paper neatly into two parts before setting it down on the table. "Today, we are going to the zoo and then we are going to visit your grandmother."

Peter though he knew of something like a zoo. It was in one of Auntie's picture books. It was a sort of animal prison. Peter thought they must have been very naughty animals indeed to end up there in the first place, but he also thought he would like to see them anyway. But what seemed the most surreal of all was the 'visiting a grandmother' bit.

He'd never had a grandmother before. He knew what they were though because Adele who was the youngest of all the maids had once been singing a lullaby as she dusted the room and Gwen, noticing that the song made Peter smile, had asked Adele to teach it to her.

"It's an old song, my grandmother taught it to me." Adele had said before giving in and teaching the words of the song to Gwen.

Gwen had afterwards explained everything about Grandmothers to Peter. "You haven't got one on either side now. Bertha's gone and so's your other one...I can't remember her name. but You've got a Grandfather who's still alive, your Mum's papa."

He was very excited now that he would have one at last. "What's Grandma like?"

Mr. Pevensie grinned. "Like an old woman trying to get into heaven." He joked.

"Huh?" Peter didn't get it. After all it is a bit rough humor for a three year old.

"Dear!" Helen scolded her husband, as she wobbled into the room. This would be the last time she would be able to see her mother-in-law because soon she'd be too close to giving birth to do much of anything.

"Morning Mummy." Peter said.

"Good morning darling." She gave him a warm smile. Then she explained that his father had been joking and that Grandma Pevensie was a perfectly delightful woman.

"I didn't think that when she spanked me." Mr. Pevensie chuckled.

Mrs. Pevensie rolled her eyes at that one.

"Will Grandma spank me?" Peter asked. He hadn't gotten very many spankings other than one or two from Gwen when he refused to settle down and he hadn't liked them.

"Of course not." Mrs. Pevensie said. "She only spanks naughty children..." She eyed her husband playfully and lowered her voice. "...Like your father."

"I heard that." Mr. Pevensie laughed.

Peter giggled into the palm of his hand.

After breakfast and a long car ride, the family strolled down the walkway along the animal cages in the zoo.

"What's the elephant in for?" Peter wanted to know.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Pevensie was genuinely confused by his question.

"This is were the cops put animals that commit crimes right?" Peter asked with out so much as a hint of 'joking' in his voice.

Mr. And Mrs. Pevensie both burst out laughing. The boy honestly thought the zoo was full of animal convicts!

"What's so funny?" Peter asked wondering what in the world had caused them to react like that.

While, Mr. Pevensie tried to stop laughing, Mrs. Pevensie explained what a zoo actually was.

Peter was somewhere between pleased that the animals were good, and disappointed that they weren't excitingly evil. "Oh." Was all he said when she'd finished speaking.

"Look at that lion!" Mr. Pevensie gasped pointing to an enclosure where a huge manned lion stood staring back at them.

"Lion." Peter smiled at the large feline that seemed to give him a strange all-knowing sort of look before shaking its mane and slowly walking away. "I like lions." He decided.

After they left the zoo, they drove several miles to Grandma Pevensie's house. (Because it was so far away they'd have to stay the night)

Grandma Pevensie's house was small and almost engulfed in muli-colored flowers and shrubs. The house itself was painted a bright blue and the door was painted orange. Leading up to the door, there where three stone steps that had been painted wood-brown but cracked in some places where the original gray-stone color peeked through.

Mr. Pevensie rang the door bell which rather than going 'ding dong' played what might have once been a soft-tune love song but due to it being an old bell, now sounded more like a caribou breaking wind.

The door opened and a lady who's eyes were such a dark blue it they looked almost purple-black, with snow-white hair stood there.

"Mother," Mr. Pevensie said proudly. "I would like you to met your new grandson, Peter."

Grandma Pevensie smiled at him. She had heard quite a bit about the little boy they'd adopted. "Aren't you just a darling." She said, beaming down at the little boy. Then she turned to Mrs. Pevensie. "You've gotten so big, Helen. Soon I'll have two grandchildren to spoil." Then she laughed to herself and added, "Unless, god forbid, you have twins, then I'll have three."

They all followed Grandma Pevensie into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a cow-shaped cookie jar. "Let's see if grandma can't get little Peter a snack." She lifted the lid and held the jar out to him.

Peter pulled out a cookie and started munching on it. "Thank you." he said with his mouth full. Then he asked where the bathroom was. (It had been a very long trip over).

"How old is he again?" Grandma Pevensie asked them as soon as Peter left the room. "You told me before, but my mind's not as sharp as it used to be."

"He turned four yesterday." Mr. Pevensie told her.

"Ow!" A sudden scream came from Mrs. Pevensie as she grabbed her belly and moaned, "I think I'm in labor."

Mr. Pevensie helped her back out to the car. "Mother, could you watch Peter for a few hours while I get my wife to the hospital?"

"Of course! Now go before Helen gives birth in the car." Grandma Pevensie told him, practically shoving her son out the door. "And for the love of all that's holy don't stop just because you see a red light! She's in labor for god's sake!"

 _Flush_ Peter came back from the bathroom. "Where's mum and dad?"

"Your parents will be back soon." She assured him. "Now why don't we go do a nice old-fashioned puzzle?" She pulled out a cardboard box from a draw.

He didn't answer, just blinked in confusion.

"Look, it's a kitty." Grandma Pevensie added, showing her new grandson the picture on the box.

"Where's mum and dad?" He asked again.

"Er...they went to get the new baby..." She said quickly as she led him into the living room and started spreading out the puzzle pieces on the coffee table.

"But they already have the baby." Peter said looking at the puzzle and trying to figure out if the piece closest to him was the cat's ear or the tip of it's tail. "It's in Mum's belly, it kicked my hand."

"But it can't stay in there forever, dear." Grandma Pevensie started connecting the pieces that formed the cat's hind leg.

"How's it going to get out?" Peter asked. "And how'd it get in there in the first place?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." She said working even more intently on the puzzle now. "Let's see if we can't find the other part of this kitty-fellow's paw."

After the puzzle was half done and they'd had supper, Peter started yawning.

"It's bedtime for you, young man." Grandma Pevensie told him.

"Mum and dad...they're coming back...right?" Peter asked, thinking of Elise and Jacob for the first time in a nearly a week.

"Of course they are dear." Grandma Pevensie said. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Peter shrugged not really wanting to talk about it. He was then taken to a guest room and tucked into a flower-patterned bed sheet. "Goodnight, Grandma." He yawned as he started to fall asleep.

"Goodnight sweetheart." She said. She turned off the light and then wondered if maybe the boy was afraid of the dark. "I'll leave the door open and the hall light on." She said almost as much to herself as to him.

The next morning, Peter slept in late and when he woke up and walked down stairs, he saw Mrs. Pevensie holding something in a pink blanket in her arms. Mr. Pevensie was smiling down at it and Grandma was looking all teary-eyed at the thing.

"Baby?" Peter asked pointing to the blanket.

"Yes." Helen told him. "Her name is Susan." She held the baby a little lower so Peter could see her. She was a small, pale-skinned baby with bright blue eyes.

Peter held out his finger and Susan grabbed onto it. She had a surprisingly tight grip for such a little baby.

"She's so little." Peter said in a tone of wonder, noticing how much tinier the baby's fingers were than his.

"Of course she is." Mr. Pevensie said. "She was just born yesterday."

"Isn't she the sweetest thing?" Mrs. Pevensie sighed looking down at her daughter.

"I wonder what sort of live she'll lead." Grandma Pevensie said thoughtfully. "She's so regal looking. She'll probably marry a king when she grows up."

"Yeah, right." Mr. Pevensie laughed. "A king...honestly mother..."

Peter laughed too, he liked it when the whole family laughed together. But he had the strangest feeling that Grandma Pevensie was right. That Susan really was regal looking to the point of having the face of a king's bride. And for some reason, he kept thinking of lions as well. He wondered if Susan liked lions too.


	8. the Little Pevensie siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I wrote this story unironically back in the day, LOL. Teenage me was kind of a weirdo.

It was late at night and the Pevensies were back at their own house again. Helen was completely exhausted from looking after Susan and Peter all day but it was worth it. It was all part of being a mother. For today, the work was done. Helen let out a satisfied sigh as she sank into her bed beside her husband.

What was an hour-but felt like a half second-later, Susan started crying. For some reason, Susan didn't like to be by herself at night. If they tucked her in her crib and walked away she always started bawling her head off. So one of them always had to stay with her, until she fell asleep then tip-toe out of the room. This worked out fine unless she woke up in the middle of the night and no one was there. Then she'd start crying again. And she never stopped unless someone came and sat in the room with her.

"Helen, the baby's crying." Mr. Pevensie mumbled.

"It's your turn." Mrs. Pevensie moaned still so tired she could barely move.

"I'm going..." Mr. Pevensie yawned. "In a second..." He started to fall back asleep.

"I'll go." Helen groaned, half-asleep herself. She rolled over forgetting in her sleepy state that she need to actually stand up and walk out of the room to get to the baby.

Susan stopped crying.

Mr. Pevensie rolled over and banged into his wife by mistake. Confused, he sat up and turned on the light. He was surprised to see his wife. "I thought you were with the baby. She stopped crying."

"I thought you were with her." Helen gasped, wide awake now. Was Susan alright? Why was she so quiet? She was never quiet unless someone was with her at night. And if it wasn't her and it wasn't her husband then who was it?

They raced into Susan's room. They found their answer. Peter had climbed in the crib next to her and fallen asleep.

What had happened was this, when Susan started crying and didn't stop, it woke Peter up. He was worried about her and had gone to see if she was alright. As soon as she saw there was someone else in the room, she stopped crying and looked up to see who it was. She was pleased to see her older brother peering at her through the crib bars.

After she'd calmed down, Peter had tried to leave the room but she started crying every time he put his foot in the doorway. In the end he figured he'd just sleep in that room with her tonight. He tried sleeping on the floor and didn't like it. Susan was mostly on one side of the crib, so he'd climbed in the other.

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Helen whispered glancing down at her children. "quick, get your camera."

"Wont a camera flash wake them up?" Mr. Pevensie asked. "And then Susan would start crying again..."

"Alright, let's go back to bed." Mrs. Pevensie gave in, deciding that front-of-cards moments could wait for another day.

"Should we leave him in there?" Mr. Pevensie wondered. "I mean is it safe?"

"It's fine." Helen told him, as she put an extra blanket over the children. "It's a big crib. There's enough room."

The next morning Peter climbed out of the crib and went down to breakfast while Helen picked up Susan and carried her down stair, putting her down in her high-chair.

"Thanks for helping out last night, Pete." His father said before picking up his briefcase, kissing his wife on the cheek, and heading off to work. "I'll be back around six." He told them.

"What did I help with?" Peter asked as he started eating the cereal that had been put on his alphabet place-matt.

"Last night, when Susan was crying." Helen explained.

"I didn't do nothing." Peter said with his mouth full.

"Swallow your food before you speak dear." Helen told him before adding, "You got her to stop crying."

Peter shrugged. "She was lonely...I know what that's like." A sad look came into his eyes and Helen wished he'd never been born to Elise and Jacob to begin with. That he'd been born into their family. It would have spared him a lot of pain.

"She'll never be as lonely as you were." Helen said softly.

Peter smiled at his baby sister. "No, we'll always be there for her, right Mum?"

"Always." She assured him.

"What if something happens to us?" Peter asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Pevensie's left eyebrow went up.

"I dunno," Peter said looking almost a little frightened. "Maybe we'd be on a train it'd crash and she'd been all alone."

"Sweetie," Helen forced a laugh sensing her son's tension. "Don't you worry about things like that...if accidents happened often enough for that, then they wouldn't be called accidents, would they?"

"I guess not." Peter shrugged but clearly he wasn't satisfied with her answer for some reason. "But what if something did happen? Where would she go?"

"Don't worry about such things, you leave that to Mummy and Daddy, okay?" Helen stood up and started to clear the table. Susan picked up one of the finger-foods Helen had put on the high chair for her to taste and threw it at Peter's head.

"Ow!" Peter glared at her. "knock it off."

Susan started laughing and threw another one at him.

"I'm telling." Peter frowned.

Susan made a noise that sounded like, "Pofft!"

"Mum, Susan's throwing things and laughing at me." Peter tattled.

Helen shook her head and laughed. "My children are having their first sibling fight." She put her hand to her heart. "How cute."

One year later, Susan and Peter were sitting on the floor in the living room playing with building blocks.

"Mama." Susan blurted out as Mrs. Pevensie walked by them looking through the phone book for something. She dropped the book on the floor and looked at her daughter. Had she just said her first word?

"What was that?" Helen asked with a smile.

"Mama." Susan repeated.

"You said your first word!" Helen cooed.

Peter wondered what his first word was and why Elise had never gotten all sappy about it like Helen did.

"Can you say anything else?" Helen asked Susan wondering how many words her little baby girl knew.

Susan didn't say anything, she just started looking for the green block so she could help Peter finish building what looked like a very floppy tower.

"Susan said her first word today." Helen told her husband as he entered the room and sat his briefcase down.

"Daddy!" Peter got up and hugged his father.

"Dada." Susan said, crawling over to him.

"She knows two words." Her mother said in a soft but proud voice.

Two seconds later she banged into Peter leg and said her third and fourth words. "Sorry Peter." it was sounded more like, "orry 'eter." But it was close.

More time passed. Peter turned five and Susan turned two. It was around this time that Peter became friends with another little boy called, Mark. (And yes, this is the same Mark who got drunk and ran around in his underwear at the masked ball in "Susan's Secret"). Mrs. Pevnesie had invited Mark over because Mr. Pevensie had been worrying that Peter didn't spend enough time with other little boys.

"Let's play store." Mark said to Peter. "I can be the owner and you can be the robber."

"Maybe I don't want to rob your store." Peter shrugged, mostly to be difficult.

"Fine, but then I'm the manager and you have to play the guy who picks up the trash." Mark said.

"I want to be the person who buys things." Peter decided.

"Okay." Mark gave in.

Susan came into the room. "Me play too!" She cried.

"Aw, no!" Mark whined. "Does the baby have to play?"

"Yes." Susan pouted, stamping her foot.

"Go play somewhere else." Mark said in a bossy voice.

"But I wan 'lay with 'eter too!" Susan insisted, getting rather red in the face.

"Tell her to go away, Peter." Mark begged.

Peter looked at his little sister who was batting her little blue eyes at him and had her hands pressed together like she was going to say a prayer. Her face was slightly messed up like she was prepared to start crying at any given moment. He couldn't say no to that. "Okay, you can play."

"Yay!" Susan clapped her hands.

"Peter!" Mark snapped. "Why didn't you tell her to go away?"

"I'm going to the bathroom." Peter said. "Tell Susan the game we're playing so we can all play when I get back."

When Peter came back from the bathroom, Susan was standing in the room with her arms up holding mum's house keeping magazines and Mark was sitting behind a table he'd set up to look like a counter.

"What's Susan doing?" Peter asked.

"She's playing the part of a magazine rack." Mark said proudly. "People buy magazines at stores all the time."

"eter, I no wan be a tangize ack 'o more." Susan said. Her arms were getting tired and she wasn't having much fun.

Helen by carrying a laundry basket. "Susan, why are you holding my house keeping magazines in the air?"

"It's part of our game, Mrs. Pevensie." Mark said in a sweet voice he used only around grown ups.

Helen shrugged. "Alright then, have fun." She walked away.

Mark waved at her until she was out of sight, then he turned to Susan, "Listen kid." He said sharply. "You're playing a magazine rack or you're not playing at all."

"I wan play 'rincess." Susan decided, dropping the magazines on the floor and looking for her plastic pink crown.

"But we're playing store." Mark protested.

"Maybe the princess can come to the store." Peter suggested.

Mark gave in. "Fine." he huffed.

At the end of the day, Mark went home.

"Hank 'ou, eter." Susan gave her big brother a hug. "Or letting me 'lay."

"No Problem." Peter hugged her back.


	9. Monkeys and teardrops

Peter was almost seven years old and had during the last few years thought about Jacob and Elise less and less. It was as if those dreadful days in the nursery were only a bad dream and this wonderful life was the morning. But three people remained very real in his mind despite the passing of time. Emily, Petta, and Gwen. And yet despite being real they were only part of dream.

In the light of morning when the dream was over, he had his wonderful parents who laughed and played games with him and his little sister, Susan who was almost four now.

One morning Helen woke up feeling sick to her stomach. She was in the bathroom throwing up for a good chunk of the day.

"Is mummy ill?" Susan asked noticing that their father was the one fixing the peanut-butter and jelly sandwich that day at noon.

"She's feeling a little unwell." Mr. Pevensie said just as the sound of Mrs. Pevensie vomiting up her guts rang through the house.

"She doesn't sound good." Peter said looking concerned.

"I remember the last time she was like this..." Mr. Pevensie said aloud, but to himself, not the children. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Peter asked him.

"Huh?" He noticed the two pairs of eyes looking up at him. "Oh, nothing."

Helen came out of the bathroom looking quite pale. "Dear..." She called her him over to her.

"You don't think...?" Mr. Pevensie asked looking both nervous and excited as he noticed the expression on his wife's face.

Helen nodded and smiled at her husband. "That's exactly what I think."

Later, Mr. Pevensie told Susan and Peter that they were going to have another sibling.

"There's another baby in Mum's belly?" Peter asked, looking very shocked. "How'd this one get in there?"

Mr. Pevensie chuckled and turned a little red in the face. "Ask me that again in a few years, son."

"New sibling." Susan repeated, before shrugging it off and going back to whatever it was she was doing before Mr. Pevensie told them the news. She'd only ever heard the word 'sibling' was when it was used to describe Peter. And she liked Peter well enough even if he bothered her sometimes and wouldn't mind having two Peters around.

As time passed, Helen got bigger and went to the doctor's more often, one day, they came home with more news.

"Children." Mr. Pevensie said at supper that night. "I have two announcements to make."

"He's going to make a speech." Susan leaned over in her chair and whispered to Peter. "I wish it was over."

"Me too." Peter whispered back.

"First," Mr. Pevensie said ignoring the bored looks on his children's faces. "Is that we've found out what you're new sibling will be."

Peter looked confused. "Doesn't it have to be a human? I thought it was a rule."

"If it's not human, is it a monkey?" Susan asked.

"I like apes." Peter added randomly.

"Our new sibling's an ape!" Susan cried out in a shrill voice.

"No, no, no." Mr. Pevensie said, rubbing his temples. "Your new sibling is not an ape."

"Is it a gorilla then?" Peter asked.

"I don't like gorillas!" Susan whimpered. "Daddy, does the gorilla have to live with us? Can't mum send it to the zoo?"

"Can gorillas be taught to do tricks?" Peter wanted to know.

"Peter, Susan," Mr. Pevensie tried not to scream in frustration. "Your new sibling is not a primate."

"Then what is it?" Susan asked in a rather huffy tone.

"It's going to be a little boy." Mr. Pevensie told them, He noticed that Peter was about to say something and added, "That's a human boy, Pete."

"I'm glad he's not a gorilla." Susan sighed happily.

Peter nodded in agreement and went back to eating his supper.

"Second," Mr. Pevensie went on. "Peter, you will begin school in a couple of weeks."

"What's school?" Peter looked very confused.

"It's a place where you go to learn things." Mr. Pevensie explained. "You'll love it."

Peter was quite certain he would love school because his father said so. He didn't consider the fact that his parents and sister wouldn't be going with him and Mr. Pevensie had (Being rather tired from explaining that they'd be having a human brother not a monkey brother and from the long day he'd had earlier)forgotten to tell Peter that school meant sleeping away from home in a dorm room.

The night before he was to be sent off, however, Peter was to find out what "School" really meant.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie were laying awake in bed talking.

"Helen, the boy will be fine." Mr. Pevensie said firmly. "He'll love school. We can't keep him home for ever. It isn't healthy."

"I know, I know." Mrs. Pevensie sighed. "I just worry about him. He's so sensitive...What if the other boys pick on him?"

"Peter will be alright." Mr. Pevensie was much more concerned about his son than you might have thought from the calm way he was speaking. "We took him in so he could have a normal and happy childhood and school is a big part of that. And he'll have so much fun and write letters to us that it will seem like hardly any time has gone by when the holidays come around."

"You're right." Helen agreed in a shaky, almost teary voice. "I know you are...I just...I..."

Mr. Pevensie gently took his wife's hand in his. "Me too." It would be quite a change not having their dear little son around everyday. It would be so very strange not to have the little blond-headed boy running towards him when he came home from work. "It'll be okay, trust me."

At this time, Peter had gotten up to get a drink of water in the middle of the night, and was passing by his parents' room just as Mr. Pevensie was saying, "And you have to think of the new baby."

Peter wouldn't have stopped but he heard Mrs. Pevensie say, "Peter will be terribly lonesome though."

Why would I be lonesome? Peter wondered. He hadn't been lonely since he's come to live with the Pevensies. And when mum and dad weren't around, Susan always was. He pressed his ear against the door.

"Nonsense, it's a nice place with lots of other little boys for him to play with." Mr. Pevensie put in.

The image of Elise and Jacob saying something similar to that before dumping him at the orphanage, popped into Peter's head. Tears began to stream down his face. 'School' apparently was just another word for 'orphanage'. Of course it was. They were going to have a real son of their own now, they didn't need him anymore. Oh, he had hoped they were going to let him stay with them forever.

He tried not to sob too loudly so they wouldn't hear him. He bit his trembling lip and started to go back to his own room.

Soon, he thought, this wont be my room anymore. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin as his nose started to run.

"Peter?" a little voice from the doorway said as it tip-toed towards his bed.

Susan was standing in the room holding her pillow. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" She griped her pillow a little tighter. Though she would never have admited it, she thought there was a monster under her bed because she'd heard a clicky-clack sound. It was only a branch banging on the window but she didn't know that.

Peter wanted to answer her but couldn't talk without crying. A sob escaped.

"Why are you crying?" Susan asked looking very concerned.

"I'm not." Peter lied as three more tears slid down his face.

"Are so." Susan squinted at his nose. "Your nose is red."

"Is not." Peter lied again, wiping the snot away on with his pajama sleeve.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Susan asked as she crawled in the bed beside him.

"No." Peter said. He couldn't tell her that she wasn't going to see him again. Even if Mum and Dad didn't care about him anymore, she did. And if he told her that their parents were going to get rid of him, she'd start crying. The last thing he wanted to do was make his little sister cry.

He wanted the last night he spend as her brother to be as pleasant as possible. And it was already going down hill because he couldn't stop crying. Not even when Susan gave him a hug and said, "Don't be sad."

That only made Peter cry harder. He was going to miss his family so much.

"Are you sad because of school?" Susan guessed.

He decided to go with that so she wouldn't ask anymore questions and nodded.

"Don't worry." She said. "Daddy said you'll like it there."

Jacob said I'd like the orphanage too. Peter thought feeling rather angry now. Why did people do this to him? Why did he always get left alone somewhere. Why had they taken him in at all? Why had they let him be so happy only to thrust him into sadness again? Why had they gone on letting him all them mum and dad if they were going to get rid of him as soon as a new baby boy came along?

"Don't cry." Susan tried again. "It wont be so bad."

Poor thing, she doesn't know she'll never see me again. Peter thought. "I'm just sleepy." He said as if that would explain his inability to stop wailing.

"I wish I was going to school too." Susan sighed. She didn't like the idea of having to be all by herself day in and day out while Peter got to play with other children and learn lessons and things. (Unlike Peter, Susan knew what school really was because Helen had read a book about children in a school to her once)

"Trust me, it's awful." Peter said before he could stop himself.

"How would you know?" Susan's eyes widened. "You've never been to a school before."

"I'm older than you." Peter reminded her. "I've gone to lots of places you haven't."

Susan pouted feeling left out. "You don't have to brag."

"I'm not bragging." Peter said. "I said lots of places, not lots of 'nice' places."

"Oh." Susan said, trying very hard to understand what he meant to say and failing to do so. (We must remember that she didn't know he was adopted).

"Let's not talk about now." Peter said feeling another lump forming in his throat. "I need to sleep and so do you."

"I'm not all that tired, just a lit..." Susan fell asleep while she was talking.

Peter on the other hand, couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard he tried to. He tried to lie to himself that the next day would be the same as the ones before it, that this was all a bad dream and that all he had to do to get out of it, was fall asleep and wake up again. It didn't work. He laid in bed with his eyes open, shinning bright with tears in the darkness of the night, all night long.


	10. The little school boy

"Good morning." Helen said cheerfully as Peter and Susan came down for breakfast. She noticed her son had dark circles around his blood-shot eyes. "Peter, are you alright?"

No, thought Peter, I'm not. You and dad are going to get rid of me today. How could I possibly be 'alright'? But all he sad aloud was, "Yes, mum, I'm fine." His voice sounded week and his nose was stuffed up.

Helen rushed to his side and put her hand on his forehead. "You're not coming down with anything, are you?"

Mr. Pevensie walked into the room. "Helen, what's wrong? You look upset."

Mrs. Pevensie shook her head. "I'm not upset...just worried. I think Peter's come down with something. He doesn't look he's gotten any sleep."

"He's probably just excited about school." Mr. Pevensie said, before noticing the long stream of snot running dripping out of his son's right nostril. "But give him some orange juice and vitamins just to be on the safe side."

"Here sweetie." Helen handed Peter a tall glass of orange juice.

Why are you being so nice to me? Peter thought, feeling more miserable than ever, you're only making it worse.

He was determined not to cry in front of them on this morning but a lump formed in this throat anyway.

"Peter's going to cry again." Susan said simply as she reached over to grab a piece of toast. "He was crying last night."

"Oh, sweetheart..." Helen said softly. "You are worried about school aren't you?"

Peter shook his head. He wasn't worried about school. He was sad about never seeing them again.

"Everything will be fine." Mrs. Pevensie said softly. "You'll have fun."

No I wont. Peter thought. I'm going to be all alone and I'm never going to see you or dad or Susan again. A few tears escaped.

"Told you he was going to cry." Susan said as she scooped up scrambled eggs with her spoon. She turned to her brother. "It's not that bad."

"I'm not crying." Peter insisted after finishing his breakfast and rushing up stairs to get dressed. At least up there, no one could hear him cry and be kind to him, only making it more painful when they left him.

Mr. Pevensie put Peter's suitcase in the car as Helen climbed in the front seat.

"Can I come too?" Susan asked, sliding into the backseat without waiting for an answer. She'd never seen a real railway station before. "I want to see the train."

"Oh?" Mr. Pevensie laughed raising an eyebrow playfully. "And here I thought you wanted to say a proper goodbye to your brother."

"That too." Susan said as Peter slowly walked over to the car with his head down and shoulders slumped.

"Pete, don't be so glum." Mr. Pevensie told him. "You'll love school."

Peter sighed and got in the back of the car next to Susan. The ride was twenty minutes long and Peter didn't say a word not even when Susan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the window.

"Look, it's a bird." She said happily. Then, "Look at the size of the car to the left of us? It's so big!"

Peter might have cared about big cars and birds any other day, but not today. Today he just looked out his own window ignoring his sister.

Then they stopped at a crowded place that was built around a long track. The train would be arriving soon. The one that was going to take him away from them for ever.

"Are you warm enough?" Helen asked making sure his coat was properly buttoned up. "Do you need another sweater?"

"Goodbye son." Mr. Pevensie said, handing him a wooden pencil case. "For the little school boy." He smiled proudly at him.

Peter kept gulping to keep from crying again.

Mrs. Pevensie pulled out a teddy bear from her bag and handed it to Peter. "It's always good to travel with a buddy." She said, with a smile.

"You should call him, Louie." Susan said looking down at the bear in Peter's hands. "Louie is s nice name."

"Louie it is." Peter said, giving his little sister a hug goodbye. "I'll miss you." he whispered.

"I'll miss you too." Susan said. "but you'll be back soon."

That's what you think, Peter thought. Would it have killed Mum and Dad to explain to her that he wasn't coming back? That they were getting rid of him? That he was going to be replaced by a new brother?

Peter wasn't sure how he felt about the new brother that had yet to arrive. He'd liked him well enough before he'd found out that he was going to be a replacement. Now he almost disliked him. It wasn't the new brother's fault but if he hadn't come along, he would be safe at home now, not saying goodbye to the only family that had ever loved him. The new brother, he had heard, was going to be called Edmund.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie had been arguing over a name for him, while Susan played nearby, unnoticed by them.

"What's wrong with 'Brock'?" Mr. Pevensie had asked.

"It's sounds like a vegetable." Helen had told him rolling her eyes. "What about 'Paul'?"

"We are not having two children who's names start with 'P'." Mr. Pevensie had said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because, Helen, it sounds silly." Mr. Pevensie had actually had the same letter in his first name as his brother and had hated it.

"Why don't you just call him, 'Edmund'?" Susan said randomly.

"I like the name Edmund..." Mrs. Pevensie said thoughtfully.

"Me too." Mr. Pevensie agreed.

Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie smiled at each other, they'd finally come to an agreement.

Now Peter found himself wishing that there was no Edmund. No, actually, he wished he was Edmund. Then he could really belong to the Pevensies. Edmund would probably never be sent away.

"Now, remember," Mr. Pevensie was telling him. "You get off at the third stop. The train conductor will help you if you get lost." He pulled a little money out of his pocket and handed it to Peter. "In case you need something."

Peter held back his tears until he was on the train. Once he was in his seat, he started crying. He tried to cry quietly by clicking his tongue bad and forth in his mouth and gulping down sobs, letting out only silent tears. So if you weren't sitting right next to him, you wouldn't have noticed he was crying.

At the first stop, an old lady got on the bus and sat beside him. She was an appealing sort of person. She was plump in an elderly way but not over-weight and she carried a large purse that any child might wonder if it did not contain at least one of some sort of soothing object such as a piece of candy or a small toy. She noticed he was crying softly to himself.

This was very surprising to her because she knew that most children do not know how to make their tears quiet. Her own children and grandchildren certainly had never known how to do so.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked him. Peter looked up, noticing her for the first time. She looked quite a bit like Gwen only a little older. Gwen had been in her sixties and this woman appeared to be about seventy or so.

"No." Peter sobbed. He was tried of pretending he was okay when he wasn't. He was being sent away again. And this time it was from a real family.

"There, there little boy." The woman said kindly, as she pulled a small chocolate wrapped in gold tin-foil out of her purse and handed it to him.

"Thank you." Peter stopped crying because he was too busy trying to get the foil off of the chocolate.

"What's your name?" The woman smiled seeing that his flow of tears was slowing down.

"Peter." he told her.

"That's it? one name?" The woman had been brought up to tell adults both of her names when requested and expected all children to do the same.

"I'm not sure what my surname is." Peter explained.

"You aren't?" She wondered if the boy was an orphan. He wasn't dressed like one-he certainly wasn't in rags-he was dressed like any other school boy might be.

"Well, I thought it was Burke but then it was Pevensie." Peter paused before adding, "Pevensie is a nicer name than Burke, don't you think?"

"Yes dear, it does sound a little nicer." The woman humored him. "so your last name is Pevensie?"

"I'm not sure." Peter shook his head. "See, there's going to be a new little Pevensie boy. They're going to call him, Edmund. He's a Pevensie, so I don't think I'm allowed to be one anymore."

The woman didn't understand but she didn't pressed the issue. "My name is Lydia Moltrete."

"That's a nice name." Peter said politely.

"Thank you, dear." Lydia told him as the train came to another stop. "I have to get off, now. Will you be alright?"

Peter nodded. "Thank you for the chocolate."

"You're welcome sweetie." and with that, she grabbed her bag and got off the train.

Feeling a little better, Peter began to wonder what his new orphanage would be like. Would it smell like pine like the old one did? Would he have girls like Petta and Emily for companions or would he had friends like Mark? It might be an all-boys orphanage but if it wasn't he hoped there was someone like Susan around to talk to. He'd never been fond of Arabelle, but maybe the new Arabelle would be something like Helen.

Finally the train arrived at the right location. Peter grabbed Louie and stuffed him under his armpit so he could use both hands to hold up his suitcase.

The school was right across from the train station, just as Helen had promised it would be.

That's a very big place for an orphanage, thought Peter, why didn't Elise and Jacob put me in a big one before? They have more money than mum and dad...Oh am I still allowed too call them mum and dad?

A tall, fat, frowning Headmaster met him at the door. His blue suit was too small for him and his dark brown shoes were hideous. He carried a gold pocket watch with a long silver chain that attached to his suit. He clicked his tongue at Peter. "You're late, boy."

Peter blinked up at the man. The new Mr. Smelter was so big, he looked like he _ate_ Mr. Smelter.

"You are Peter Pevensie?" The headmaster asked in a grumpy voice.

"I-I-I think so..." Peter stammered.

"What a strange child." The headmaster shook his head and said, "This way, now."

"Tardiness will not be looked upon well here, Peter." The headmaster was still frowning as he spoke. Peter wondered if he knew how to smile. The headmaster opened the a door to a room with two beds in it. "This is were you will sleep. You're roommate's name is Terrence Ehatwich. He should be here soon, you can start unpacking."

Even before he knew Terrence for the tyrannical bully he was, Peter had a strong feeling he wouldn't like him and could get rid of the chill that went up and down his spine as he sat on the bed, looking down at Louie, missing his family more than ever.


	11. Lord Terrence

"Hey, you!" Peter had fallen asleep curled up, his head on his still unpacked suitcase, and his arms tightly around Louie-bear, only to be woken up by an angry looking older boy of about ten or eleven. "Why are you in my room?"

Peter blinked up at the boy. He's so big...was all Peter could think. A normal-sized boy of ten tends to look very large to a small boy of only six. And this boy, was tall and wide for his age almost as tall as a boy of thirteen or fourteen might be. He had stiff-looking short brown hair and sunburned skin covered with freckles. His mouth was almost as large as he was and so red it made Peter think of a dragon's tongue.

"Hello!" The boy shouted putting his hands on his hips. "Are you deaf?"

"N-n-no." Peter stuttered, feeling very, very small, like a sheep about to get swallowed whole by a wild beast. "Are you Terrence?"

"Yeah, I'm Terrence, and this is my room so get out." Terrence hissed meanly.

"The man said this was my room too." Peter explained, hoping to make friends so he wouldn't have to be afraid of the brick wall of a child standing in front of him.

"What man?" Terrence demanded. "Tell me now, or...or..."

"Or what?" Peter asked before he could stop himself.

No one had ever said, 'or what?' to Terrence before. Not if they valued their life. Terrence got his way because the children younger than him trembled at his very presence, seeing him as a higher power to be feared. The children old enough to be his peers sucked up to him because he was quite rich and was known to bribe his 'friends' with fancy gifts.

"Are you trying to be tough?" Terrence took a threatening step towards him. "Do you really want to push it with me?"

Peter had never felt so afraid in his life. He's so big... you must remember that he'd had a tall glass or orange juice, a long ride, and hadn't gone to the bathroom for hours. Now he was scared out of his wits and did what any poor boy in his place might have done, he wet himself.

Terrence instantly saw the wet spot on his new roommate's pants and because even angrier. Now only was there some little punk in his room, but the punk also had little control over his urine.

"Tell me which idiot sent you here!" Terrence barked.

"The new Mr. Smelter." Peter blurted out. "I don't know his name...I don't..." his lower lip started to tremble a bit.

"What a cry-baby." Terrence snorted as he stormed out of the room. He didn't know who this 'new Mr. Smelter' was, but he decided he'd go have a talk with the headmaster.

"I'm sorry, Terrence, but there's no where else to put him." The headmaster told him without looking up from his papers. "You were both the last to register this year."

"But he's a baby, and I'm nearly grown, you can't except me to sleep in the same room as that...that...creature." Terrence pleaded, certain that after a few more tries he'd get his way.

"I don't care if your roommate is the freaking lock ness monster, Terrence. I can't just boot him out of there." The headmaster was losing his cool. He hated most children and regretted getting into the line of work he was in. He had no good side. The sweet children, he saw as whinny brats who were only plotting something behind his back. The Naughty children to him all seemed in need of a good spanking.

"But it's not fair!" Terrence cried out.

"I don't have to be fair, Mr. Ehatwich, I'm the headmaster." He said sharply. "Now back to your room and go make friends with..." He had too look at his list of students to remember what Terrence's roommate was called. "Peter Devensie." (The bottom part of the P had gotten smudged off by mistake).

"Make friends?" Terrence shrieked. "with that...that...baby?"

"Good day, Mr. Ehatwich, I don't hope to see you in here any time soon." The headmaster said, eyeing the door, signaling that the conversation was over.

"Ugh!" Terrence stamped his foot once he was outside the office. He'd have to keep that little runt in his place, or else everyone would think he was going soft. Well it shouldn't be too hard, the boy hadn't seemed very brave.

Peter was now unpacking his things. He hoped someone with a big net would catch Terrence, mistake him for a hairless gorilla of some sort and haul him off to a zoo. Anything to keep that fright of a boy from coming back into this room. If only Helen hadn't taken him out of the first orphanage. Matthew and Carl hadn't been friendly but he hadn't been afraid of them. He realized that he would give anything to hear one of Carl's bossy orders and gladly do whatever it was he asked if only he it would make Terrence go away.

"Listen you!" The door swung open and Terrence stood in it.

Peter gulped. The Terrence beast had returned for it's pray. Maybe he could reason with it...just maybe... "Terrence, I-I-I don't want...I mean...can't we be..." Peter stammered. "Friends?"

"Friends?" Terrence looked appalled. "With you? Never. I don't like you."

So much for that idea. "Well, maybe you would if you got to know me." Peter tried. "Lots of people like me.." He thought of Susan, Petta, and Emily all three of which were nothing like Terrence. "Well not a lot...but some..."

"Shut up, you little twit." Terrence boomed slamming his fist down on the desk in between the beds.

Peter shut his mouth instantly.

"You will sleep on your side of the room, and you will not talk to me unless I ask you a question." Terrence told him. "Got it?"

Peter nodded.

"Answer me." Terrence demanded.

"I got it." Peter said quickly.

"You will address me as Lord Terrence." The boy big and tough and scary though he was, hadn't convinced any of the other little kids to call him 'lord' and thought it would be great fun to force Peter to do so.

What Peter wanted to call him was 'jerk' but if 'Lord Terrence' was what the big ape wanted to be called, so be it. "Okay."

"Okay who?" Terrence asked, glaring at him.

"Lord Terrence." Peter said.

"What's this?" Terrence walked over to Peter's side of the room and looked at his things. "A teddy bear...how sweet..."

"Leave Louie alone." Peter said harshly. Louie was all he had left of his parents and sister. He would rather have Terrence beat him up than mess with poor Louie-bear. But to be on the safe side he added, "Lord Terrence."

"Did your mummy give it to you?" Terrence teased cruelly, putting his hands closer to Louie's head.

"Yes, leave it alone." Peter begged.

Terrence gave him a cold smirk and picked up the bear by the ear. "Why don't we put Mr. Wooie on a window seat?"

"No!" Peter cried, noticing the window was open and Terrence was about to toss Louie out of it. "Please don't!"

He didn't listen to Peter's pleas and clucked the hapless bear so far out the window that it landed on a roof of another building near them.

Peter refused to let that slide. Being bossy, scary, and big was one thing. Roofing Louie-bear was another. Peter raced out of the room and decided to find the new Mr. Smelter's office. Too bad he didn't know were it was.

"Ow!" Peter banged right into another boy his age.

"Watch it." The boy growled.

"Sorry." Peter said. "I'm trying to find that man with the watch and the tight suit. Do you know where he is?"

"You mean the headmaster?" The boy asked. "Yeah, he's in his office over there." the boy pointed to a door only a little ways away from them. "But you don't want to go there."

"Sure I do." Peter said firmly. "I want to tell him that about my teddy bear being stolen and thrown away."

"Good idea." The boy said in a kind voice. "Always best to get these things sorted out."

Peter felt a little better now. "Maybe he'd tell Terrence to be nicer to me."

"Terrence?" The boy's face went white. "Terrence Ehatwich?" The boy grabbed Peter by the shoulders. "Do you have a death wish?"

"No." Peter laughed, glad that he wasn't the only one who was nervous around Terrence. But things should be fine in the safe hands of the adults, right?

"Trust me, don't cross Terrence." The boy advised him, shaking in his boots as he spoke. "Beware." He started to walk slowly down the hall away from Peter and in a voice that sounded like an old man in a scary story he added another, "Beware."

Peter decided to ignore the boy's advise and tell the headmaster anyway. Surely it was the right thing to do.

"What do you want, boy?" The headmaster asked.

"Terrence stole my bear." Peter explained taking a seat in front of the headmasters desk and sitting politely with his hands in his lap.

"What Bear?" The headmaster wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

"My bear from home, sir." Peter said. "It means a lot to me. I think Terrence ought to be told that he shouldn't do things like that."

"Indeed he should!" The headmaster exclaimed. "I may not like children, which unfortunately includes both you and Mr. Ehatwich, but behavior like this is very improper." He was thinking of all the promotions he might miss out on if his students were very naughty and didn't treat each other well.

Terrence was given three weeks detention, and he was told to go over to the next building, confess his bad actions to whomever he met there and ask for someone to get the bear back from the roof.

"Here's your stupid bear, you tattle-tale." Terrence sneered as he thrust the bear at Peter who was beginning to think that it might have been wiser to keep his mouth shut. Now the Terrence-beast was even angrier than before.

"Thank you, Lord Terrence." Peter tired, daring to look into the bully's face, hoping to see it soften just a little. It didn't soften, it only hardened, because he thought he was being made the butt of a joke and didn't like that one bit.

The dinning hall was large. Much larger than the one at his old orphanage. And a tall lady named Arabelle wasn't the one who served you a meal and told you not to play with your food. Rather it was a grumpy, short old lady standing behind a counter with a big mash-potato scooper which she slapped onto each tray.

How am I going to eat that much mush? Peter wondered looking down at his plate. There was a small serving of something that looked a little like corn but was too watery to tell for sure. A slice of bread and some sort of mess that was either a dried out cake or poorly prepared meatloaf was also there. but what took up nearly half the room were those dratted mashed potatoes! Peter wondered if even Terrence himself could eat it. Then again Terrence could probably eat a metal can if he had to.

The said Terrence was standing to the side of the dinning hall with three other boys. Two of them were twins. They both had hair so blond it looked almost white and were very plain faced. They're names where Tommy and Timmy. The other boy was shorter than them but twice as wide and twice as stupid. He had sort stumpy hair that was somewhere between red and blond. He also had the worst eye sight in the grade but refused to get glasses and so was always squinting.

"Watch this." Terrence whispered to his peers, sticking out his foot as Peter walked by. Peter fell right on to his tray and stood up covered in mashed potatoes with bits of the corn-like food stuck to his hair.

The headmaster walked in just as the room broke out into laugher. "What's all this noise?" he demanded.

Peter looked up at the headmaster. "I-I-I'm not sure sir."

"I am." Terrence smirked, taking a step towards the headmaster. "Peter here tried to start a food fight. And this is what happens...Little kids sir, what's to be done about them?"

"Is this true?" The headmaster asked Timmy and Tommy.

"Yes. We saw it with our own eyes." Timmy lied. "Terrence here was just trying to make him stop, but Peter threw food at him..."

"Still angry about that bear I suppose." Terrence said in a voice loaded with fake-understanding. "Even though I said I was sorry."

"Thankfully he ducked and the food, bounced off the wall back there and hit Peter." Tommy added.

"How did all that food manage to bounce?" the headmaster raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know, but there were lots of witness to it." Terrence said boldly, knowing no one would dare stick up for the new boy.

"What about you, Tony?" The headmaster asked looking to the squinty-eyed boy for an answer. "You haven't said a word in three years."

"I'm Tony." Tony said rather loudly.

"Yes, I know." the headmaster shook his head. "Well, Peter, you are in big trouble young man." He clicked his tongue. "And on your first evening here too."

"But..." Peter said. "I-"

"No buts." The headmaster said firmly. "I haven't time to get a confession out of you, so you needn't think one up. Rather, you will go into the classroom at the end of the east hallway and write. 'I will not waste my food and I will be kinder to my classmates in the future' one thousand times."

"Must I?" Peter asked. At the old orphanage, he hadn't been expected to write things for punishment.

"No." The headmaster said through his teeth. "You don't have to. What you _must_ do is write 'I will not waste food, be rude to my classmates, or talk back to the headmaster' two thousand times."

Peter decided not to go for three thousand times. But he did cry a little as he wrote the words out on the board. If only Mum and Dad could see him now. If only Susan were here. If she was, then he wouldn't mind how much his wrist hurt because she'd talk to him and say how rotten the headmaster was in such a grown-up tone for her little age that he'd laugh forget all about being sad.

"I hope that new boy, Edmund realizes how very lucky he is." Peter sighed to himself as he crawled into bed that might.

"What was that?" Terrence asked.

"Nothing, Terrence." Peter said quickly. "I was just...um, saying my prayers."

"Good." Terrence said in a threatening voice. "You're going to need to be on god's good side if I decide to send you to heaven with my fist. And it's 'Lord Terrence.' to you. Don't forget that."

Peter bit his lip and willed himself not to cry again. This was the worst place on earth.


	12. Who says you can't write home?

The next morning Peter woke up feeling sick to his stomach. He knew he was not in his room in the Pevensie house hold safe and sound about to walk downstairs for a nice breakfast. Rather he was in a slightly drafty room with an oaf of a bully the size of a house who was sure to be very unpleasant no matter which course of action he might chose. He hadn't wanted to get Terrence in trouble for the bear. But he'd been upset and he'd always been told that grown ups were there to help. Now Peter had come to a new conclusion. Grown ups weren't there to help. They were there to be false hopes. Like something you could never have constantly dangled in front of you.

Elise and Jacob had been the perfect parents as far as looks were concerned. Outward beauty was their strong point. But try to get them to notice, or love you and you'd get nothing whatsoever.

The grown-ups at the orphanage were reasonably kind but distant. You could never know if they cared about you personally or if they were just looking out for everyone as a group.

But the worst of them all was Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie. They'd set his hopes so high. He'd thought at last he had found grown-ups who could love him freely without holding back. With kindness given because they wanted to give it not because they had to. But what happened as soon as a new son came around? Sent away just like that. He didn't blame them though, he loved them too much for that.

"Get up you lazy lump of lumber!" Although he was awake, Peter was still in bed, his fingers tightly curled around the edge of his pillow. Terrence wasn't willing to wait for his new roommate to get up on his own.

Peter didn't answer or stand up. What was the point? He was doomed to spent the rest of his life in this horrible place. It didn't matter what anyone did or said to him now. He pulled the covers over his head, deciding to let 'Lord Terrence' yell and demand all he wanted.

"I said get up." Terrence hissed.

"Go away." Peter moaned, wishing he'd run away yesterday when he'd had the chance. If only he had thought of getting off the train at the wrong stop. Then he'd be free exploring the whole wide world not hiding under the covers while the-boy-who-thought-he-was-lord hollered at him.

"What did you say to me?" Terrence demanded.

"I said, go away." Peter cried from under the covers. What did it matter if Terrence sent him to heaven with his fist? Heaven had to be nicer than this place called 'school'.

"That's it!" Terrence grabbed the side of the mattress and flipped it over, causing Peter-still rolled up in the blankets-to fall onto the floor. "Now get up."

"Why do you care?" Peter demanded. Forgetting all of his fears a little too well.

"Because, you little twit, I have to lock the dorm room door and I don't want to be late because the wittle itty bitty baby boy was tired." Terrence said cruelly. "Now get dressed before I shove you in the closet."

Peter gulped, stood up, and crouched behind the flipped mattress because he didn't want to take off his clothes in front of Terrence. Then he left the room slowly hoping that Terrence wouldn't say another word to him. Now he'd changed his mind about being sent to heaven. It wasn't heaven he was scared of. It was the 'being sent' part that made him think he might pee his pants again if he didn't race out of the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Devensie." The headmaster was standing in the hallway.

"Pevensie." Peter corrected him. Though he wondered if he should have said 'Burke' because clearly he wasn't one of the Pevensies anymore.

"Find then." The headmaster said shortly. "Mr. _Pevensie_ , this is your class schedule." He handed him a white slip of paper. "It will be your responsibility to remember it and attend to it all. On time and with no more of your trouble making. We don't want a repeat of the food fight you tried to start yesterday do we?"

"No sir." Peter said softly.

"That's more like it." The headmaster sighed. "We may make it through this year after all."

What does he mean, 'Through this year'? Peter wondered. Does he mean they are sending me somewhere else after the year was over? Maybe it would be somewhere nice, far, far, away from Terrence Ehatwich.

As the headmaster walked away looking at his pocket watch once again, Peter glanced down at the paper he'd just been given.

8:00 AM- Breakfast in the dinning hall.

8:22 AM- Outdoor group walk (weather permitting)

9:15 AM- Math studies room 222

10:25 AM- Maps and History room 18

11:15 AM- English studies room 23

11:55 AM- Reading room 11

12:20 PM: Music room 55

12:50 PM- Lunch in the dinning hall

1:15 PM- afternoon break to be spent out doors (weather permitting)

1:35 PM- Art room 7

2:00 PM- Physical education in the gym

Peter had never had to go to all of these 'Classes' at his old orphanage. Why did he have to go to them here. They didn't all sound very appealing either. His stomach growled and he looked back to the first thing on the paper. Breakfast sure sounded good though.

In the dinning hall, Peter slid his tray carefully along the counter and a grumpy lady slapped some sort of gray oatmeal on his plate. It certainly wasn't as good a breakfast as Helen Pevensie's pancakes that was for sure. The oatmeal smelled burnt and Peter wondered if hunger was really worse than eating burnt oatmeal first thing in the morning.

How what? Who was he going to sit with? No one called him over. no one said, "Hey aren't you the new boy? What to sit with us?" So he decided to sit at the empty table by the window. It was a reasonable distance from where Terrence, Tony, Timmy, and Tommy were sitting so it seemed like a good idea.

Peter was trying to get down at least one spoonful of the awful breakfast when he heard a shaky voice above him say, "C-c-c-c-a-a-n I s-i-i-t-t-t h-h-here?"

"Sure." Peter looked up at the boy in front of him. At only eight years old, he was the most unfortunate looking child that ever graced the planet. he had flat dark brown hair, his teeth had braces with god-knows-what stuck in them, he wore very hideously shaped glasses, his nose was red (He had allergies to nearly everything), and he had very plain looking features (One could tell even then that he was not going to get any better looking when he got older). He had an unbreakable habit of shutting his eyes and stuttering when he talked.

"R-r-r-r-e-elly?" The boy's face lit up.

"Why not?" Peter asked, smiling for the first time since he'd heard his parents talking about sending him away.

The boy sat down next to him. "M-m-m-o-o-st of the b-b-bo-o-oys don't l-l-like m-m-me m-m-much." He explained still shutting his eyes as he spoke. "T-t-t-h-hey s-s-say t-t-the way I t-t-alk anno-o-oys them."

"That's not very nice." Peter said.

"I w-w-anted to say s-s-o-orry." The boy said.

"For what?"

"W-w-well, y-y-yester-d-d-day, I s-s-aw w-w-hat T-t-terrence did to y-y-ou and didn't s-s-say anyth-h-hing to the h-h-headm-m-master." He explained.

Peter was already starting to like the boy quite a bit and thought he might actually like to be friends with him. "What's your name?"

"M-m-my n-n-n-ame is H-h-h-u-u-bert."

"I'm Peter." Peter told him.

"I k-n-n-ow." The boy managed a friendly smile. "I heard someone say it y-y-yester-d-day."

A little while later, Hubert started writing a letter to distract himself from the smell of the burnt breakfast that he had just force fed to himself.

"Who are you writing to?" Peter asked, leaning over curiously.

"M-m-my p-p-parents." Hubert confessed, blushing suddenly.

"You can do that?" Peter gasped. At the old orphanage, no one had written to their parents. Some of them didn't even _have_ parents at all. Could he write to Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie?

"Of course you can!" Hubert cried out, so surprised at the question that he didn't stutter for the first time in his speaking life.

Peter spent the rest of the day in a happy daze. He had a friend and he could write to his parents. There was something he really wanted to tell them. He didn't snap out of his daze all day, not even when Terrence pushed him in the mud during the walk, or when Tommy threw a piece of fruit at him, or when the teachers snapped, "Pay attention."

He found the classes rather dull and could hardly wait until they were over. When they were, he ran into his room (which thankfully Terrence was not in at the time) and composed a letter for his parents.

_Deer mum and dad (can I still call you mum and dad?)_

_I am not mad at you for sending me away. But I do miss you_

_terribly. You don't no how much._

_I thoght it over and I tink it's a good thing that you let_

_me live with you till your got a real sun._

_Please tell Susan hello from me and that I miss her_

_too. Also I am sorry that I can't be your sun anymore_

_that Edmund is a luckey feellow._

_I don't like this new orpanige much._

_my friend, Hubert is nice but I don't like the_

_other boys. They don't like me either._

_One of them pushed me in the mud and I got_

_in trouble for it!_

_I don't like him._

_love,_

_Peter_

"There!" Peter said as he licked an envelope closed with the letter inside of it.

Later that day, Peter dropped his letter in the mail and sighed. He felt a little better now.

One week later, Mr. Pevensie happily told his wife that a letter had come from their son in the mail.

Her face lit up. "Oh, let me see." She was fairly beaming now. She had missed Peter terribly and wondered how school was going for him. Opening the letter and seeing it's contents her face dropped.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Pevensie asked.

She didn't answer she just kept looking at the child-scrawled misspelled words on the page in her hand.

"Helen?" Mr. Pevensie tried.

"That poor boy." Helen said softly. How could he possibly think they didn't want him? "He thinks we..." she handed the note to Mr. Pevensie.


	13. a bigger family

Peter was sitting in class reading the book his English teacher had told him to read and review. It was probably the most boring book ever written.

_The Cat, knows where to find the bat._

_The Cat is not angry._

_the bear is not happy._

_The monkey smells food._

"This is going to be a long afternoon." Peter whisper-sighed, suddenly having the urge to bang his head on the wall.

He'd tried explaining that Mrs. Pevensie, had already taught him to read the words in that book but the teacher hadn't listened. She'd insisted that all children in class were too young for anything harder.

"Peter Pevensie." A voice boomed over the school speakers. "Please report to the headmaster's office."

"Oooooooo!" his classmates looked up from their books with grins of amusement on their previously blank faces.

"Somebody's in trouble." One of the boys from the back row taunted.

Peter gulped. Was he going to have to write more words on the board? He hadn't liked it the last time. Why was he in trouble anyway? He hadn't done anything. Unless of course, Terrence was behind this. He did seem to love getting him in trouble for things he hadn't done.

"Mr. Pevensie, go on, don't keep the headmaster waiting." The teacher said looking up from the romance novel she had hidden under her lesson-plan book.

Peter stood up and walked slowly down the hall, dragging his feet. This wasn't his day, that was for sure. There had been a decent breakfast for the first time since he'd been there only to have it knocked out of his hands by Terrence before he could take a bite of it. Then Hubert had been crying because one of the older boys had been teasing him about his stuttering problem and Peter had been trying to comfort him only to be late for class and get scolded by his math teacher and given four 'order marks' for his bad behavior. And now he was in trouble and didn't even know what for. If he had been a very different sort of boy he might have fallen at the headmaster's feet bawling, "What ever it is, I didn't do it!" but it wasn't his nature to react to things that way, he was more likely to burst into quiet tears and then shake like a leaf until the moment had passed.

"Mr. Pevensie, you have a phone call." the headmaster said shortly, handing Peter the phone the second he arrived in the office.

"Hullo?" Peter said, wondering who was at the other end.

"Peter, sweetie, it's mum." A calm familiar voice at came in from the other end of the phone.

"Mum!" Cried Peter happily.

"I got your letter today." Helen told him in a soft, sad voice.

"You did?" Peter asked.

"Yes." Helen told him. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Listen, you seemed to be a little confused in your letter. Exactly what do you think you're in school for?"

"So that you and dad can have a real son and I wont be in the way." Peter said simply. "Doesn't school mean orphanage?"

"Honey, you are not in an orphanage." His mother reassured him. "You are going to see us again very soon. As soon as the holidays come around. And you'll come home and the five of us will be a family. We're not getting rid of you, you are part of our family. Susan will be going to school when she's your age too."

Peter was so happy that tears of joy started sliding down his face. It was too good to be true. "Really?"

"Of course." Helen exclaimed. "Sweetheart, if I'd thought even for a minute that you didn't understand what was going on...I...you poor thing..."

"I'm really glad I'm still your son." Peter told her.

"Me too, dear." Helen assured him. "I have to go now, are you going to be okay at school until the holidays come around?"

"Oh, yes, I'll be fine." Peter smiled. Everything would be okay after all. He was still a Pevensie.

"Good, I love you, bye."

"Bye, mum, love you too." Peter said handing the phone back to the headmaster.

After that all the teachers were amazed by how different Peter became. He stopped crying all the time, and started raising his hand and answering questions. He started to play more with the other boys his age and was by himself less. Although, no matter how many friends he made, Hubert was always his best chum. (Things got better for Hubert too because Peter refused to play with anyone who was mean to him and since the other boys in the grade had started taking a liking to Peter, they put up with Hubert's stuttering more than they had before) And Terrence and his friends were always his worst enemies. More than anything, Peter wished he shared a room with anyone else other than 'Lord Terrence'.

But even the worst moments of bullying and bad days and bitter tears and stolen lunches do pass with time and the sting of them does lessen. Soon it was the holidays and Peter could hardly wait to get home.

"W-w-w-ill y-y-you h-h-h-a-a-ave a n-n-n-ice f-a-a-amily to go-o-o h-h-h-ome t-t-to?" Hubert asked as they both stood at the station luggage in hand waiting for the train to pick them up.

"Yes." Peter said, thinking of mum and dad and Susan. "What about you?"

"Oh, I c-c-c-ant w-w-a-ait t-t-t-to see my mum." Hubert confessed freely knowing Peter wouldn't hold it against him the way the other boys did.

With a loud screeching sound, the train pulled in. "This is my train." Peter told him.

"Alright." Hubert waved goodbye. "s-s-s-ee y-y-y-ou in s-s-ch-o-ol i-i-in a f-f-few we-e-eks."

Peter took a seat. This time, he was enjoying the ride and noticed right away when a familiar old woman sat next to him. "Lydia!" He smiled at her.

"Well, someone seems to be much more cheerful this time around." Lydia smiled back.

"Oh yes." Peter told her gleefully. "I'm going home to my mum, and my dad, and my sister."

"Oh I see, well that is something to be happy about." Lydia said, still smiling.

"Yeah, it really is." Peter sighed happily.

Once he had arrived at his stop, he noticed a tall man standing next to a pale-skinned black haired little girl both of whom were looking around for someone.

"Dad!" Peter cried throwing down his suitcase and racing over to give his father a hug.

"There's my boy!" Mr. Pevensie exclaimed, hugging his son. "How did we like school?"

Peter shrugged. "It was alright." Hubert and some of the other boys were nice but he'd be thrilled beyond all reason if Terrence got lost some how during the holidays and never returned.

"Peter!" He felt someone hug him from the side.

"Su!" He beamed down at his little sister who was clinging on to him much tighter than his father had. "I can't breathe."

"Sorry." Susan let go of him. "I just missed you."

"I missed you too." Peter told her. He looked around for his mum. "Where's mum?" He asked.

"Oh she's too big to go anywhere." Susan explained a little too freely. "She's huge!"

"Susan!" Mr. Pevensie snapped.

"Well she is!" Susan defended herself.

Edmund was due to pop out any time now, in fact, he was a week or so late and Helen couldn't safely travel anywhere.

"We're home!" Mr. Pevensie called into the house when they arrived.

Mrs. Pevensie got up and waddled over to the door.

Whoa, she _is_ huge. Peter thought as he saw the size of his mother's belly.

"Welcome home!" She slowly managed to bend down a little to hug her son but not with out a little bit of trouble.

Later she sat in her rocking chair while Peter and Susan sat on the floor drawing things with Susan's new box of crayons that she had refused to open until Peter came home so they could share.

"How many shades of purple do they have?" Peter wondered aloud.

"Try, Purple-blue." Susan handed him a crayon.

"So which is it?" Peter asked. "Purple or blue?"

"Beats me." Susan shrugged as she started drawing a sun with a yellow-orange crayon.

"My gosh, this child can't sit still." Helen moaned to herself holding her belly. "It's like he's trying to kick-box his way out of there!" Suddenly Mrs. Pevensie added, "Ow!"

Mr. Pevensie ran right over to her. "Are you alright?"

Mrs. Pevensie shook her head. "I think I'm in labor." She moaned as Mr. Pevensie helped her up and into the car.

"What about Peter and Susan?" Helen asked as Mr. Pevensie let her out of the house.

"They'll be fine." Mr. Pevensie assured her. He turned back to them. "Stay here, and don't open the door for anyone, got that?"

They nodded.

"So, Mum's going to have Edmund now." Peter said.

"Sure seems like it." Susan agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Peter asked.

"I don't know." Susan said.

"Let's play hide and seek." Peter came up with randomly. "You're it."

"Why do I have to be it?" Susan asked.

"Um, because I'm your big brother and I say so?" Peter had never played the 'older brother' card before but decided to give it a try.

"Oh, alright." Susan gave in, covering her eyes and starting to count. "One, two, three..."

Meanwhile at the hospital, the doctor was also counting, "One, two, three...push."

"I _am_ pushing!" Helen yelled at the doctor. (She was in too much pain to be her regular nice self).

"Alright, one more big one..." the doctor said, ignoring her shouting.

"What part of I _am_ pushing, don't you...ahhh!" Helen let out a scream and as Edmund Pevensie entered the world for the first time.

Moments later she held her new son in her arms while Mr. Pevensie beamed down at them. "It looks like this family's getting bigger and bigger."

"It sure is, darling, it sure is." Helen Pevensie smiled to herself.


	14. Peter the Magnificent brother?

Peter and Susan looked down into the white-wood crib at their new baby brother, Edmund who laying on his back, staring up at them with his large brown eyes as if he had never seen little children before. (in fact, that was most likely the case, before them the only people he'd really seen were his mum and dad and the doctor.)

"Well what do you think?" Helen asked her children.

"He's so little." Susan laughed. "He's the same size as my dolls."

"Of course he's little, Su." Her father chuckled, remembering how Peter had said something very similar about Susan when she was born. Oh, how time did fly. "He's a baby."

"Was Peter this little when he was born?" Susan wanted to know.

Helen glanced over at Peter who looked back with pleading eyes. She knew what he didn't want her to say. Mrs. Pevensie sighed. "All babies are little, Susan."

"I knew Mark was a liar." Susan said looking very proud. Mark, unlike Peter, hadn't been sent away to school yet. He was going to be sent during the next term and had sent the past term running around town and telling tall tales that made no sense to the littler children, including Susan. "He said his aunt had a baby the size of a full grown cow. Of course I didn't believe him."

"Isn't he sweet?" Helen said, looking down at her son who smiled up at her for a moment before he's lips curled downward into a sort of frown. Then he started crying

"What's that smell?" Peter waved his hand in front of his nose and took a step away from the crib.

"Oh, not again!" Helen moaned, she picked up the baby and handed him to her husband. "Your turn."

Mr. Pevensie moaned, and put his son on the changing table. "Good lord, Ed, you poop more than you eat!" Suddenly a stream of yellow pee hit Mr. Pevensie on the forehead.

"Ew!" Susan cried looking utterly disgusted.

Peter and Helen burst out laughing. "We're not laughing at you dad..." Peter said trying to suppress his laughter a bit and failing to do so.

"No, I think I was laughing at him." Helen joked.

"Oh very funny." Mr. Pevensie started laughing a bit himself as Mrs. Pevensie threw a towel at him. "Thanks, hun."

A few months later during another one of Peter's holidays from school, Mr. Pevensie was at work, Mrs. Pevensie was busy cleaning the house, and Peter and Susan were bored out of their minds.

"What do you want to do?" Susan sighed for the hundredth time that afternoon.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" Peter sighed back, closing his eyes half way.

"I don't know..." Susan shrugged. "What is there to do?"

"We could play hide and seek again." Peter offered.

"No." Susan shook her head. "There's nowhere good to hide anymore. You know all my spots." (Susan was pretty predictable when it came to things like that)

"We could go outside and play catch." Peter thought up.

"I don't like catch." Susan told him. "What about having a tea party?"

"I don't like tea parties." Peter sighed, there was little in the world he liked less than being forced to wear one of Susan's pink floppy hats and pretend to drink fake tea.

Susan had another idea. "What if we go play with Edmund?"

"Can we?" Peter asked.

"Why not?" Susan shrugged. "He's our little brother isn't he?"

"You don't think mum would mind?" Peter was a little unsure.

"Of course not!" Susan said. "Say, I'll bet he'd fit into some of my doll's costumes."

"He might!" Peter said feeling a bit curious. "What should we dress him up as?"

Susan went into her room and returned with an armful of doll's clothes. "We have, fairy princess, fireman, raccoon, king, and mermaid tail."

"Well I'm not dressing my little brother up as a fairy princess." Peter said firmly. "He'll hate me for the rest of his life if I do that."

"What about mermaid...or his case, a merman?" Susan held up the fake mermaid fin.

"I don't like mermaids." Peter said. "They're all freaky and fish-like."

"You don't know anything about Mermaids." Susan told him. She hated it when he pretended to be an expert on things he knew nothing about.

"Do so." Peter argued. "Auntie told me all about..." he stopped when he realized when he'd started to say without thinking.

"What Auntie?" Susan asked. "Do we have another aunt besides Alberta?"

"No, I misspoke, I meant Grandma Pevensie told me about the merfolk." Peter lied quickly, promising himself never to think about Elise, Jacob, Gwen, Auntie, or any of that ever again. It never happened, not for real, he wasn't a Burke, he was a Pevensie. And he would never again say or think any differently. He was through with being a Burke. He'd had enough.

"Oh, I see." Susan pulled out the king costume. "Want to dress him up like a king?"

"Sure." Peter said grateful that she wasn't pressing the issue of the 'Auntie' he'd just spoken of.

They went into Edmund's room, Susan stood on a box so she could reach into the crib and pull Edmund up.

He looked displeased and sullen at being disturbed but he didn't cry. He just pouted at his siblings as they put a purple tunic over his nightshirt.

"He sure makes a funny-looking king doesn't he?" Peter commented.

Edmund must have understood what his brother was saying, because he picked up a small stuffed rabbit and threw it at Peter's head.

"Hey now, none of that." Peter frowned at his little brother who started laughing. "Are you laughing at me?"

Peter insisted he saw Edmund nod his head up and down as if to say, "Yes. yes I am." but Susan said he must have just imagined it.

"He needs a crown." Susan picked up the little golden crown that had also belonged to one of her dolls, and put it on Edmund's head.

Edmund shook it off his head, picked it up and started sucking on one of the diadems.

"Ew." Susan muttered, looking at the long stream of baby drool that was rolling down the side of her former plaything. "He can keep that."

Peter smiled. "I have an idea." He went into Susan's room and pulled out a pink floppy hat that he had been forced to wear countless time and put the hat on his little brother.

"Um Peter, that's a girl's hat." Susan reminded him looking at Edmund. His head was much too small for the hat and it covered the top of his forehead and the top part of his eyes.

"I know." Peter shrugged.

Helen walked in and saw them all. "Children, Edmund was supposed to be taking his nap."

Edmund started bawling his head off the second Helen said the word 'Nap'.

Susan took the floppy hat off of Edmund and put it on Peter who ripped it off his head and threw it at Susan, who threw it back at him. Helen was too busy trying to get Edmund to take the edge of the plastic crown out of his mouth to scold her older children for having a costume throwing fight.

Peter picked up a pillow and threw it at his sister. In Helen's arms, Edmund started laughing, looking over his mother's shoulder at his funny siblings. Helen used this as a chance to get the crown away from him.

Susan picked up a home-made stuffed pig that was actually a supposed to be a teddy bear of some sort and threw it at Peter.

The fight ended in another room, with Susan getting smushed between two pillows with Peter sitting on the top refusing to get up until she declared him the winner.

"Get off me." Susan said.

"You didn't say the magic words." Peter teased.

Susan huffed. "Alright fine!" She gave in. "Peter Pevensie is the best at everything, he's smart, talented..." She rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"Go on..." Peter said with a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

"He is always right, always wins, is the best big brother ever..." Susan stopped. "is that enough?"

"No, no, keep going." Peter told her, enjoying himself a bit too much.

"You do realize that sitting on someone and forcing them to say nice things about you, isn't a good way to make friends right?" Susan asked straining her neck a little so she could look up at her brother.

"I guess I'm just going to sit here on this pillow forever," Peter sighed. "I wonder if I could reach the bookshelf from here..."

"Ugh!" Susan rolled her eyes again. "Peter is kind to all creatures big and small..."

"Start at the beginning of that verse." Peter instructed. "I want to hear the whole thing."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Susan struggled in vain to squirm her way out of the pillows. "Get off me you big galoot!"

"That's it, you've just earned your self three extra verses about my thoughtfulness and bravery before I can let you up." Peter told her.

Susan started wiggling to make a sort of pillow-earthquake so that Peter would fall off.

"Hey, that's cheating!" Peter said as she escaped, stuck out her tongue at him, and ran into another room.

He found her sitting on a rocking chair in the living room looking at the dictionary even though she was too little to read most of the words in it.

"There you are!" Peter said.

"What do you mean?" Susan asked innocently, putting her hand to her heart. "I've been sitting here all day."

"Oh really?" Peter put his hands on his hips.

"Uh huh." Susan told him, suppressing a smile. "Haven't moved from this spot."

"Then who just ran out of my room mocking me?" Peter asked in an amused voice.

"I don't know." Susan said. "Must have been your other sister."

"I don't have another sister." Peter pointed out.

"Oh yeah...maybe it was me..." Susan joked, the smile on her face was no longer suppressed.

Suddenly someone came behind Peter and pulled his pants down.

Susan covered her mouth with her hand, but her shaking shoulders revealed her amusement.

He quickly looked behind him. Edmund had managed to climb out of his crib and crawl into the room, and get a grip of the bottom of Peter's pants.

Peter picked up little Edmund and held him so that they were eye to eye. "Now then, who do you think you are, Terrence Ehatwich?" He joked.

Edmund gave his brother a gummy, troublesome grin as he was set on the ground and started crawling towards his big sister.

"I love having a little brother." Susan commented as the little boy sat next to her and looked at her as if to say, "Wasn't that funny?"


	15. A big brother once more

"I'm so glad you've come back home again, Peter." Susan told him as she met him at the railway station after he returned home from school again.

"Me too." Peter agreed. "You would think after almost two years, Terrence Ehatwich would get less pleasure out of making my life a living he-"

An elderly lady passed by and looked at him funny for a moment. She thought it sounded like the young boy was about to curse. In front of his little sister, no less.

"-llo, there!" Peter waved to the lady who narrowed her eyes for a moment before nodding and walking away.

"So how was school this term?" his father asked cheerfully.

Peter shrugged. "It was alright."

"Did you hear?" Susan asked him. "Mum's going to have another baby."

"Another one?" Peter's eyes widened in surprise. "Edmund's not even two yet!"

"Poor Mum." Susan sighed. "She's been so tired lately."

"Has she?" Peter asked as their father put his suitcase in the back of the car before going into the front to start it up.

"Edmund's been very restless." Susan explained, getting into the car herself. "He can't sit still." She paused for a moment before adding, "Which only got worse because he got excited when he heard you were coming home."

Edmund was one of those children who you couldn't exactly remember what their first words were because once they learned to speak, they never stopped. Edmund had been going on and on using the only two or three short phrases he knew by one and a half. Poor Helen was at her wits end. Thankfully Mr. Pevensie never thought twice about helping her out when she needed it.

"eter!" A voice called out as soon as the door was opened and Mr. Pevensie and the two older children stepped into the house.

Sure enough, a small pudgy dark-haired baby came crawling towards his siblings as quickly as he could, stumbling and landing flat on his stomach and face at least twice.

"Hullo, Ed." Peter said as his little brother started hugging his legs.

"Hullo." Edmund looked up at him and smiled. The smile wasn't as gummy anymore.

"Hey, he finally got some teeth." Peter noticed.

Edmund, for some reason had been rather late getting his teeth in. Mrs. Pevensie had been worried but the doctor had assured her that he was bound to get them sooner or later and that he was perfectly healthy.

Edmund looked very pleased with himself as though getting teeth had been some great accomplishment he'd managed to achieve with out any help.

"So, have you been behaving?" Peter asked as Edmund started pulling him into his room because he wanted to show him some of the new toys he'd gotten while he'd been away at school.

"Yes." Edmund told him.

Peter looked at Susan. "Has he really?"

Susan shook her head, no. "Yesterday, Mum caught him piling cardboard boxes so he could reach the cookie jar."

"Cookie?" Edmund looked very excited at the mention of one of his favorite treats. His mouth started to water and he looked pleadingly up at Susan, with a long strand of drool racing down his chin.

"No cookies, Ed." Susan told him firmly. She really had the 'responsible big sister' role down pat.

Edmund instantly turned to Peter as a second person to beg for snacks from. "Cookie?"

"No, Edmund, no cookies." Peter said. Then he bent down and whispered. "I got some treats for you on one of the other train stops. Be good, and I'll give them too you later."

"Peter, his teeth, will go bad." Susan had ears like a hawk.

Peter rolled his eyes. "He hardly has any teeth anyway."

"He'll spoil his supper." Susan grumped.

"You're not mum, Su." Peter reminded her, a bit sharply.

Susan pouted and didn't speak to her brothers for about ten minutes while Edmund proceeded to show Peter every little change in his room that had occurred since he'd left.

"Uh, Ed?" Peter asked as his brother showed him his new yo-yo for the sixth time in a row. "Why don't we do something else?"

It was at supper that night that Helen told them what she had found out from the doctor earlier that day. "It's going to be a girl." She told them.

"A little sister will be great." Susan said happily. "She might be able to sit still longer than five seconds." She looked at Edmund who started laughing.

"What are you going to call her?" Peter asked his parents.

Mr. Pevensie told him that they hadn't decided yet and started eating his corn and peas.

Edmund didn't respond to the news at all, he just flung a spoonful of mashed potatoes that had been set out for him (easier on his teeth) at Susan, hitting her right on the top of the head.

"Ha ha." Peter burst out laughing, while Susan glared at him and reached for a napkin.

Suddenly another spoonful of mashed potatoes was let lose by Edmund, this time hitting the side of Peter's face.

"I suppose I should have seen that coming." Peter said dryly.

"Serves you right." Susan said as she struggled to get the last bits of mashed potatoes out of her hair.

Mr. Pevensie stood up and frowned at Edmund. "It's bed time for you, young man." He said reaching over and grabbing Edmund out of his seat.

"No!" Edmund cried as he was dragged away. "I no wan sleep!" he waved his arms too and fro hoping to get lose from his father's grip.

"Look at that," Peter said, talking a bite of the buttered bread Mum had set out next to their plates. "Dinner and a show."

"You shouldn't encourage him." Susan said to Peter in a very teacher-like voice.

"Don't talk so much like a grown-up, Su." Peter chuckled. "It sounds funny."

"Does not." Susan retorted.

"Does so." Peter insisted stubbornly.

"Both of you stop arguing." Helen told them rubbing her forehead. "Mummy's got a terrible headache."

"Sorry Mum." Susan said as she stood up, plate in hand, to rinse her dish in the sink.

"It's too bad Edmund was sent to bed before I could give him his treat." Peter said.

"What did you get him anyway?" Susan wanted to know.

"Turkish Delight." Peter told her. "Think he'll like it?"

"Probably." Susan said as she reached over and turned off the kitchen light as they walked out of the room.

Months passed and soon it was time for Helen to have her baby. This time though, she looked very tired rather than snappy while she was in labor and was quite weak afterwards. The doctors let her go home but she had to stay in bed most of the time, with her husband nearby in case she needed something.

"She's become quite ill." The doctor had told Mr. Pevensie gravely. "There, I've said the bad news. The good news is that we have every reason to believe she will pull through as long as she gets lots of rest and no great shocks."

"Thank you, doctor." Mr. Pevensie said. "I'll see to it that she gets all the rest she needs."

"You have four children now don't you?" The doctor asked, talking off his glasses, shaking his head, and wiping his glasses off with the edge of his lab coat.

"Yes." Mr. Pevensie answered cautiously wondering what the doctor meant by that.

"Is there anyone they could stay with while she recovers?" The doctor asked, trying to be helpful but sounding almost rude.

Mr. Pevensie took a deep breath. "They aren't very noisy children." (Except Edmund, Mr. Pevensie thought but didn't say). "They wont bother her. I know she'd rather have them around."

"Are you sure?" The doctor asked.

"Yes." Mr. Pevensie said firmly.

"What should we call her?" Mrs. Pevensie asked holding her new baby daughter in her arms. Despite the doctor's tongue clicking in disapproval, Susan, Peter, and Edmund sat at the edge of the hospital bed looking at their new sister.

"I always liked Martha." Mr. Pevensie suggested

"Bleh!" Edmund blurted out before making a fart noise with his mouth.

"Well dad, the Saab has spoken." Susan joked, gently stroking her mother's hand as she spoke.

"Are you going to be alright, Mum?" Peter asked, on the verge of tears. He was worried about her. She looked so very...pale.

"Yes," Helen said, her voice almost a whisper. "Mummy's just a little tired that's all...I'll be fine, I promise."

"What about Lucinda?" Susan came up with.

"It seems like a bit much, doesn't it?" Peter wrinkled his nose.

Susan shrugged. "It's a nice name."

"Lucy!" Edmund said suddenly pointing to his new little sister.

"I think that's a good name for her." Mrs. Pevensie smiled at her younger son.

"I like it too." Mr. Pevensie said.

"Me too." Peter agreed.

"It suits her." Susan admitted.

"Well, Lucy it is then." Mr. Pevensie chuckled softly.

"Can I hold her mum?" Peter asked his mum.

Helen thought it over for a minute. She would have said no right away but Peter looked at her so pleadingly that she found it hard to do so. "I don't know...you might drop her..."

"I wouldn't." Peter insisted.

Helen gave in. "Be careful." She said as she handed the baby to her oldest son.

The movement woke up Lucy who had been asleep since shortly after being born. She noticed she wasn't in her mum's arms anymore and that it was quite a different face that looked down at her now. It was a young boy with light hair and blue eyes. She liked him. She gave him her first smile.

Peter had never been so moved in his life. Yes, it had been wonderful when Susan was born but it hadn't been the same as this. Not quite. Susan had been completely Mum's child. And although it was Mum who had brought Lucy into the world-goodness knows it had taken a lot out of her to do so-Peter felt as if he was personally responsible for the newest member of the family somehow. He promised himself that he would always watch over little Lucy no matter what.


	16. A Burke Nevermore

While Helen was getting the rest she needed before she could be up and at it again and Mr. Pevensie was busy looking after her and making sure Edmund didn't do anything crazy like shove small objects up his nose, It was up to Peter to keep an eye on Lucy. Sometimes Susan helped but mostly he just sat next to Lucy and talked to her by himself and made sure that she got anything she needed.

Late one night in bed, Peter was feeling very tired-never had the feeling of sinking down into the mattress felt better-and had almost fallen asleep when he suddenly felt the light pressure of a small creature climbing up into the bed beside him.

It must be the cat, Peter thought to himself about to curl back up into a comfortable ball and go to sleep. Then his eyes shot open and he gasped, remembering suddenly that they didn't actually have a cat. He reached over for the lamp next to his bed and turned on the light.

Laying next to him was his baby sister Lucy, she peeked open one eye at him and half-smiled.

"Lucy, how did you get in here?" Peter got up, picked up the little baby and carried her back to her room, placing her in the crib. "There you go. Back to bed now."

He paused for a moment to see if she would cry or whimper now that she was about to be left alone. Susan had done her fair share of that sort of thing at Lucy's age. But Lucy didn't cry or move, she just looked back at Peter and stretched out her arms as if expecting him to pick her up again.

Peter sighed and shook his head. "Go to sleep Lu." He said firmly but not unkindly.

After he left the room, Lucy climbed out of the crib again and crawled back through the house until she reached Peter's room. The door was shut. Lucy reached out her little hands and pushed on the wood of the door until it opened.

"What was that?" Peter sat up, and flicked the light on, startled by a sudden noise. "Susan? Edmund? Is that you?"

He heard a faint baby-giggle at the foot of his bed. Lucy was back.

"Hey." He grinned at her. "I thought I put you back in your crib."

Lucy blinked indifferently.

"You really should go back there and go to sleep."

Lucy continued to stare up at him.

"Oh, Alright!" Peter gave in. He couldn't say no to that face. He picked up his little sister and putting her in the bed next to him. "Are you going to sleep now?" He asked.

For an answer, Lucy curled up next to him and shut her eyes.

"Goodnight Lu." Peter whispered turning off his bedroom light and going to sleep at last.

Two years later, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and little Lucy were huddled in a corner. Uncle Harold was taking family photo graphs.

"Why wont Edmund smile?" He frowned at Mr. Pevensie as if it were his fault.

"Look, take it now, he's smiling." Mrs. Pevensie told her brother, pointing at her younger son.

Edmund was indeed smiling but he wasn't facing the camera so if the photo was taken they would only get his profile.

"Look at Uncle Harold, sweetie." Helen told him.

Edmund looked at the camera and gave his biggest smile...which turned into a pout the second the flash went off.

"I give up." Harold sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Harold," Mr. Pevensie asked. "Can you talk a one of the six of us?"

"Sure." Harold got the camera ready.

"Alright, Lucy, sit on Peter's lap so there's room for your mum to get in the shot." Mr. Pevensie said, gently lifting his youngest child onto his oldest child's lap. "Edmund, please sit closer to Susan and just for this one shot smile a little."

Mrs. Pevensie got behind Peter and put her hand on Edmund's shoulder. Edmund jumped, surprised at suddenly being touched before he realized it was his mother. Soon they were all in the right positions for the photograph to be taken. Everyone (Even Edmund) were all smiles, both in lips and in eyes. There had never been a family so beautiful, simply because it was so happy.

The flash went off and uncle Harold smiled knowing that even if ever other photo was worthless this one was gold. It was pure. The very sort of family photograph people wished they could point to and say, "Yes, sir, that's the family I grew up in."

"Well what do you think?" Mr. Pevensie had asked them when he'd hung the photograph on the wall of their living room.

"It's lovely." Susan said.

"I like it." Lucy put in.

"My ears stick out." Edmund said, just to be difficult.

"They're like that all the time, Ed." Peter teased before looking back at the photo again.

How had this come to be? How could the little boy in this portrait be the same little boy who'd belonged to Elise and Jacob? Quite simply, it wasn't. That boy had vanished and a new boy had replaced him. Peter Burke had turned into Peter Pevensie. And that was that. But what if someone asked? What if someone saw the paper work? He was getting old enough to worry about those things now.

"Mum...can I talk to you and dad alone for a moment?" Peter asked them.

"Sure, thing sweetie." Helen and her husband walked with their oldest son into another room and shut the doors tightly behind them.

"Do you still have the paperwork from the orphanage?" Peter wanted to know.

Helen was quite taken aback. "Yes, somewhere...I think...it was so long ago..."

"Why do you ask?" Mr. Pevensie raised an eyebrow.

Peter sighed. "I don't want anyone to ever know about my being a Burke."

"Peter, it's part of who you are and someday, you might not mind so much." Mr. Pevensie told him. "Someday you might even be curious about your birth parents, and that's alright."

Peter shook his head. "No, you're my parents." He said firmly, his face as hard as stone. "I am not a Burke."

"Sweetie..." His mother tried.

"Can you burn it?" Peter asked them, a look of pleading shinning bright in his eyes. "The papers and anything else that mentions where I came from?"

Mr. Pevensie thought it over for a moment. "We'll, put in a box away in the attic."

"For ever?" Peter asked to be sure.

"Is that what you want?" Mrs. Pevensie looked a little uncertain.

"More than anything in the world." Peter assured her.

"For ever." Mr. Pevensie said. "I guess it's settled then."

After the box was sealed, Peter grabbed a roll of duck tape and double sealed it. Then he tied string around it. And it was placed in the back of the attic to be a secret for ever and ever. A secret no one was ever meant to find out. And no one would have, if not years later, a teenage Susan Pevensie had been looking for something she wanted to take with her on the trip to Mako Island. She'd thought it might have gotten put away in the attic. She hadn't found what she was looking for, but stumbled across the Burke-box.

She had never been a very curious person by nature. That was more of Lucy's way of approaching things. And She would have left the box alone if she didn't have a strange nagging voice in her head insisting she must open it.

It took more that just bare hands to do so. It took two knifes (The first one broke in the attempt), and nearly an hour. Just as she was about to give up and give the box a swift kick before storming off, she realized she'd finally gotten through the last layer of tape.

Susan reached in and pulled out some long-buried paper work. Who's Peter Burke? She wondered, digging deeper into the box.

And so this story ends and the others begin.


End file.
